Firm snow, a careful plan, and some edge angulation gets you, literally, a long way. Need to cover a mile? All you need is a line gently crossing the contours for 600 feet or so. On Sierra “wind board” and corn, whether frozen or softened, the glide ratio of a mid-weight rider is pushing 10:1. To launch from a high saddle or turn onto the debris fan of a splitter couloir and glide for miles just above the flat lakes and lumpy moraines, covering literally tens of miles an hour is pure bliss. It is the long glides that are the Type-1 fun, “giggle pow” of multi-day ski mountaineering. It is satisfying and thrilling and I build huge portions of my life around it, but I don’t find myself spontaneously laughing out loud. In other words, seek the most enjoyable, laugh-worthy experiences in the sliding world.Ĭall me a curmudgeon, but steep, often-firm, wilderness skiing with an overnight pack and lightweight ski gear isn’t in my definition of fun. One of the directives of the Red Line’s original activists was to “red line the fun meter”. Couloirs and steep faces captivate the attention of our ski mountaineering community. “This day and age” it is the fall-line ski runs that catch our attention. Action selfies are a skill all their own. When the snow and scene is like this, it is hard to pass up an opportunity for an action shot. That being said, the light and magic of the High Sierra make up for that. Solo skiing isn’t really that photogenic. Low commitment enchainments like the Red Line truly ensure that one actually enjoys the here and now, as the opportunity for a different scene is ever present. We test different parts of ourselves with different sorts of mountain endeavors. There is great liberty and confidence borne of repeatedly finding the motivation to keep going, even when there is an easy out. One’s mind is constantly faced with the easy out. However, the terrain is similarly draining, and the opportunity to bail is almost ever present. Sierra enchainments (like this one, and alpine traverses I’ve done) don’t have the commitment factor of routes in the “Greater Ranges”. Bouldering one must start the route maybe tens of times a day. On an alpine climb, one must start a route, and muster appropriate motivation, only once a week or so. I’ve joked that, in rock climbing, bouldering is reputed to be low commitment but I argue that one has to be more committed in that venue than in serious alpine climbing. Athletically and technically this traverse was harder than all the Alaskan, Canadian, European, Greenlandic, and South American expeditions I’ve been on.įrom an objective hazard, logistical, and commitment stand point, however, the Red Line of the Sierra is pretty casual. At times the terrain was serious, but I was always minutes from flat ground and hours from dry desert. I spent a ton of time in steep terrain, up and down. Some climbs were “for real,” with steep and firm snow mixed with classic Sierra rock scrambling. But I was indeed able to ski real, worthy terrain every day. Only one day did I fail to summit a peak. I aimed to ski at least one “proper” ski line and to summit a peak every day. Narrow, steep, with wind-scalloped powder snow and completely invisible from any road or trail. Don’t forget the whimsy and fun of adventuring as conditions allow.”Īn obscure couloir on an amazing, prominent ski peak on day 5. “I imagine Allan would be most stoked by a party employing the spirit of the Red Line rather than the exact route … Always remember, an act of creativity like route finding in a natural setting can be deeply satisfying, even when following a generalized route. The “founders” purposely kept their description vague, empowering future suitors to spend “day after day, hour after hour, on our knees fondling the topo maps.” I’ll do the same, honoring the perspective of Todd Eastman from the BackcountryTalk forum. And, once, when leaving the crest by a little over a mile meant I could skip sketchy free-solo rock climbing, I steered even further from the Red Line. I left the crest only when it meant better skiing. Photos in magazines and the ads of their sponsors from the time show them skiing the N couloir of Mount Humphreys and a couloir into the Palisade Glacier. Bard and company specifically mention skiing the NW face of Mount Whitney and “Mount Russell used as a pass.” So I did those things. I skied most peaks and routes up one side and down the other, moving forward. I skied the best and rowdiest lines I could. On maps, these boundaries, for the most part, are marked with a red line hence the name. This ridgeline also divides California counties, as well as National Parks from National Forests. The highest peaks of the range divide the watershed of the Pacific from that of the Great Basin. I stuck close to the crest of the Sierra.
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