After an abnormally grueling ski up Snoqualmie Mountain, we unceremoniously reached “The Slot.” I actually couldn’t even see it. I was several yards behind Bobby, Tristan and Gus when someone announced, “we’re here.” All I saw was the edge of a ridge that presumably dropped off into a granite abyss. As I inched closer and closer to the precipice, the 35-45 degree pitch of The Slot revealed itself. Damn. As my heart rate was already spun up due to the treacherous, steep side hilling on shear ice that was our ascent; peering over the edge to view The Slot did little to calm my nerves.

The outing began as optimistically as any spring Cascade alpine adventure might. On Saturday Bobby, Tristan, Gus and I departed the Bellevue Park & Ride at 0730, drove to the pass, parked the car at 3100′ in the Alpental parking lot and were climbing Snoqualmie Mountain before 9 AM. The sun was out, save for a few clouds, which provided excellent vistas on our way up. Unfortunately, with little more than half the distance to the summit covered, convection clouds began to dominate the atmosphere and earlier views of Mount Rainier and Keechelus Lake vanished. The last several thousand feet to the summit required traversing an open, firm and icy face. Getting adequate traction was challenging, and there was little below us to snag an accidentally dropped pole, or skier for that matter.

We eventually reached the entrance to The Slot. After scoping it our for a brief moment, we trucked up the last several hundred feet to bag the summit at 6278′. The cloud cover was now pretty thick, and we did not waste much time taking photos or enjoying the scenery up top. We quickly skied back to The Slot to eat a quick lunch before our descent.

Eating the bagel smeared with peanut butter I packed for lunch at the Slot’s entrance helped me relax. Navigating the narrow trench of this couilor on sheer ice didn’t appeal to me, and I figured that is what I was in for if the snow conditions were anything like what we encountered on the climb up. I’d heard several old Cascade skiers say things like, “I’ve reached the entrance many of The Slot many times, and turned around on quite a few attempts.” Tristan was first in the hole and reported back that it wasn’t as bad as it looked. The snow up top was actually turnable. The Slot is a north facing aspect, and shaded at that, which shields the snow from the viscous solar cycle of nearly melting in the day and refreezing at night.

Gus dropped in on his tele boards next. All things considered, the entrance is probably the most nerve racking aspect of skiing this famed run. A narrow path with enough room for one turn steeply dumps into the top of The Slot. Immediately to the left of this path is a cliff that drops several hundred feet. The best policy is to just point your skis and not think about it.

Once in The Slot, I actually enjoyed the skiing. It was steep, technical and challenging. The snow was soft enough to link turns together. We all agreed that this run would be infinitely better in deep powder, but when could you not say that?

The bottom of The Slot fans out into an open basin that drains into a creek. Once we were on flat ground again, we transitioned and prepared to skin up to the col to the west. The effects of daylight were finally being felt on the snow. The snow got so soft on the last couple of hundred feet that we were forced to throw skis on our backs and boot up. Once at the col, we now had only the west face of Snoqualmie Mountain to ski down back to the car. The snow up top was soft and fun. As we descended lower and lower, the water content increased and turning became more of a chore.

The Google Earth snapshot below highlights our route. Yellow is the up portion, and blue represents the descent.

Yellow=ascent. Blue=descent.

To check out more photos, visit Flickr or watch the slideshow below.

Spring in the Pacific Northwest can be a confusing time. For the weekend warrior, decisions have to be made. Do I rock climb? Do I go for a run? Get out the motorcycle or even consider getting out on the water. For some of us though, the obsession still persists. Months of cold, clouds, snow, rain and ice are not enough to discourage what feels like a basic instinct. If it is bluebird and there’s even a hint of decent snow, the decision is easy: off to the mountains. The way Gus, Megan, Justin and I saw it, we had little choice but to head up to Alpental Backcountry for a day of skiing.

Just beyond the boundaries of the Alepntal ski area is a wilderness littered with alpine lakes. Not surprisingly, the official name for this zone is the Alpine Lakes Wilderness, and it stretches from Snoqualmie Pass at the south to Stevens Pass at the north. The route we were to follow on Saturday was the standard circumnavigation of Chair Peak, which included crossing 5 lakes. The rough route is as follows:

• Upper Alpental parking lot
• Source Lake Basin (~3700′)
• Up southeast face of Chair Peak (~5600′)
• Down north shoulder of Chair Peak
• Snow Lake (~4000′)
• Up to Chair Peak Lake (~5000′)
• Melakwa Pass (~5300′)
• Down southwest face of Chair Peak
• Upper Melakwa Lake (4508′)
• Melakwa Lake (4505′)
• Up to Bryant Col (5480′)
• Down the Great Wall of China
• Source Lake Basin
• Parking Lot

We left the Mercer Island park & ride in Justin’s Subaru around 0630. An hour later we were in the upper parking lot of Alpental, and shortly before 0800 we departed for the Source Lake Basin. From the Source Lake Basin we climbed the southeast face of Chair Peak. As we approached the saddle that would allow us access to the north shoulder of Chair, the skin track became progressively steep. The few that had preceded us on this path actually gave up skiing the last several hundred feet and booted up. Unphased by the steep face, Gus blazed on and set the skin track. The snow was loose, and the going was slow. Kick turns proved tricky. Even though Gus we were able to skin nearly to the top, the last few steps to the saddle were to steep to attempt skis on. After a quick boot, we were at the saddle staring at the vast powder field that extended down the north shoulder to Snow Lake.

A fellow skier gave us tip tip to continue climbing the ridge west for about a hundred feet, then traversing across northwest. The suggestion was prudent as we were able to preserve about 500 feet of vertical which allowed us to make a handful more of precious powder turns.

The view from saddle was excellent. Visibility extended deep into the North Cascades. Glacier Peak and its volcanic majesty were in full view.

The snow on the north facing aspect of Chair Peak was about perfect. We all took turns ripping the light, crisp powder under bluebird skies. The stoke level was on high by the time we all assembled at Snow Lake some 1600 feet below.

Once we reached Snow Lake, we threw on skins and began the climb up to Chair Peak Lake to the west. After witnessing several wet slides on the south facing aspects that border Snow Lake, we paid extra attention to our route selection.

We made a brief descent into the Chair Peak Lake basin and coasted across half of the lake. After getting a quick snack, we slapped on skins and climbed to Melakwa Pass which is nestled between Kaleetan Peak on the west and Chair Peak on the east.

Once we joined several other parties on Melakwa Pass , ripped skins and talked to an old timer on tele gear about winters past. The skiing down the southwest face of Chair was predictably not as tasty as the north aspect we skied earlier, but we charged it regardless.

We skied the face into a drainage that led us first to Upper Melakwa Lake. From there we dropped down to the larger Melakwa Lake before putting on skins and preparing for our final ascent.

Scaling the west face of Bryant Peak was the last difficult task on the to do list for Saturday. The climb from Melakwa Lake at 4500′ to the Bryant Col at almost 5500′ is a hefty undertaking. The ascent winds around several growths of trees and features several different aspects. However grueling, the climb gave us great views of Granite Mountain, Pratt Mountain, Low Mountain and even Mount Rainier in the distance.

Once at the Bryan Col, we had one last descent before the run out through Source Lake Basin back to the parking lot. Snow on the upper part of the Great Wall of China was excellent, but the lower we got, the heavier the snow became. The avalanche debris in the final couilor didn’t necessitate survival skiing, but it was pretty damn close. All in all, it made the beers back in the parking lot taste that much better.

More photos are available on Flickr.

The email arrived in my inbox last Tuesday.

Hey Everyone-

Short notice, but tomorrow night there will be clear skies and a waxing gibbous moon with 99% of of the Moon’s visible disk illuminated. So you know what that means…. skiing by the light of the moon!

I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of a moonlight ski tour, and tomorrow night we just happen to have an almost full moon AND clear skies. If anyone is interested I’d totally be down for an easy tour from the Alpental parking lot to Snow Lake and back. If we can get organized enough we can even do JetBoil s’mores on the moonlit shores of Snow Lake.

Any takers?

-Gus

Besides wondering WTF a waxing gibbous moon was, I was in for sure. Seldom do I miss an opportunity to ski tour with buddies here in Seattle, and this was a once in the season kind of opportunity. If you’re unfamiliar with the Pacific Northwest winters, the mountains here get feet upon feet of snow. The only downside to this blessing is rarely do we enjoy clear skies. Needless to say, no cloud nights with a full moon during the ski season practically never happen. Wednesday night just happened to be the exception.

Curtis, Gus and I rendezvoused at the Mercer Island park and ride around 7 PM. The skies in Seattle were not exactly promising as we left the city. Clouds shrouded the skyline and any trace of the full moon was faint at best. As we ascended I-90 into the Central Cascades, the weather changed. The moon and the brighter spots of the Milky Way hung over head. We had headlamps with us, but we did not really need them as we assembled our gear and left the upper lot of Alpental at around 8 PM. After a quick tour through the trees, we were in the magnificent Source Lake Basin.

We toured up the northeast side of the basin on the south facing aspect of the ridge. At about 10:00 we stopped to transition and wait for Megan and Matt, who left Seattle just a few minutes later than we did. Here, at our highest point, I looked back towards the ski area and noticed an orange light reflecting onto the mountains across the valley from Alpental. Even though the ski area proper was not visible from our vantage point, the lights used for night skiing lit up a substantial amount of Snoqualmie Pass.

After catching up with Matt and Megan for a minute; Gus, Curtis and I decided to head back to the car. Despite the beautiful evening, the three of us were expected to be at our jobs the next morning. Megan and Matt are both in medicine, which means they are lucky enough to get the odd day off during the week off. The two of them continued to the ridge that overlooks Snow Lake before charging down the basin.

The skiing was really excellent on some aspects, and crusty on others. The photo on the top of this post is of Curtis skiing down the south face of the basin. Using a little tripod attached to my ski poles, I set the camera for a 40 second exposure while Curtis skied down with his headlamp on.

For these shots I used a remote triggered flash equipped with an umbrella. Oh yeah. We went full Explosion 5000 photo studio at 4500′ in the Alpental backcountry. Gus lugged out the light stand for me, and I carried the rest of the gear.

Once back at the car, we dug out a few Rainiers that I buried in the snow bank. We toasted the Midnight Ski Touring Ninjas (or whatever Curtis named us). I’ve skied a lot with both Curtis, Gus and Megan this season. Although we’ve had some amazing outings; no powder day can really compare to traveling the backcountry under the moon and stars. Major props to Gus for envisioning and leading this unique night.

A few notes on the photography.
Like every other ski adventure this season, I used my Olympus Pen E-P3. I debated taking my heavier and more powerful Nikon D300, but instead opted to go with the compact Olympus system. Despite the extra weight and size, shooting with the Nikon would have had some advantages. There was not enough available light to effectively use auto focus on the Olympus. I am sure this would have been a problem with my Nikon as well. The advantage of the Nikon lenses I own though is that they have a scale printed on the focus rings. This would have allowed me to dial in a focus setting of infinity, ensuring that the far off peaks I photographed would be in focus. The Olympus 14-150mm lens I used has a manual focus ring, but it lacks a scale or a hard stop when you’ve reached the extreme of the focus range. After a little trial an error, I got it mostly dialed. Using the LCD to guess focus was also not as easy as using a true optical viewfinder. This is not necessarily a critical flaw of the camera, it is just something I failed to note before venturing out that night. That said, it is hard to imagine having fun while lugging the D300 and the massive 24-70mm f/2.8 zoom up a skin track.

As I mentioned before, I used a Joby Gorillapod that I rigged to my ski poles to stablize the camera. Every shot in this post (save the flash photos) is a 20 second or longer exposure. The MacGuyver rig I used did its job, but I will seriously considering bringing a proper tripod with my next time. Since I’m not keen on hauling my heavy aluminum tripod with me; this outing made a pretty good argument to upgrade to carbon fiber.

I love Whistler. There is seldom an invite to this Canadian paradise that I will decline. That is why when I got Kate’s email last fall about organizing a Whistler trip during the first weekend in February, I instantaneously RSVP’d. My fondness for Whistler, Blackcomb and the lively village nestled between these two mountains only increased after Ryan and I took a trip into Blackcomb’s backcountry on an exceptional late April weekend during the Telus Festival. After taking a gondola, two high speed quads and a t-bar, we were a 20 minute skin from the entrance to one of the most epic alpine zones that easily accessed. After buying the $50 backcountry “one ride up” lift ticket on Saturday morning, Curtis, Brandon, Russ, Ryan and I returned. In the photo above, Curtis drops a cliff on Decker Mountain with a view of the Coastal Range in the background.

I knew it was going to be a good day the instant we reached the access gate. Despite a mild hangover from shenanigans at Maxx Fish the night before, I was ready to ski. As I glued my skins on, four very attractive women skied through the gate. Like myself, they proceeded to delayer and slap on skins. Only in Whistler.

We quickly reached the saddle, ripped skins and swiftly skied down several hundred. After a quick boot pack up another ridge, we had a clear view of the Decker Glacier. On the other side of the ridge we could see Seventh Heaven, the Blackcomb resort proper and Whistler off in the distance. We opted for a run on untracked snow that ran up to the base of Decker. Despite warmer weather and plenty of snow, the snow on the north facing slope was soft and fun.

We skied down to just above the lake, crossed a sketchy traverse and landed at the foot of the Decker Glacier. Here we skinned up for awhile before reaching the ridge that runs up to the summit of Decker. We broke for lunch, took in the views, watched a heli land across the the valley and began our descent.

After making a descent of Decker, we traversed back towards where we made our first run. We quickly reached the ridge, transitioned and slayed the nearly perfect snow all the way down to the lake.

With several successful runs under our belt, we made our way to the traverse that winds around the side of Blackcomb to Disease Ridge. After another 30 minutes of skiing cat tracks and groomers, we were back at the base area enjoying a beer at Longhorn’s.

On Sunday I was able to convince Russ and Ryan to join for a ski adventure. After talking to several folks at a ski shop in the village, I had gotten it in my head that we should ski the Duffey Lake zone, which is about an hour north of Whistler on Highway 99. We got bit of a late start, but after packing up our gear and cramming everything into my Volkswagen, we reached the parking lot at the sand shed just before noon. Ahead of us was a densely gladed approach up to Rohr Ridge. The beginning part of the climb included lots of bushwhacking. Trees, branches and unstable sun baked snow made the skin up interesting at best. In the end, we covered 2900 vertical feet in just under three hours.

Based on the poor quality of snow on the south facing slope we climbed, expectations for the ski down were pretty low. Thankfully, the north facing slope made our descent just the opposite. The snow was light and deep enough to have fun with. After watching Russ ski an incredible line and Ryan bomb down after him, I took my turn and plunged off the side of Rohr Ridge. I even lined up 7 footer and skied out of a powdery landing.

We skied the first 1500 feet on an open face named Stellar Bowl. The second half of the descent ran through the trees, including a delicious pillow line. We eventually reached the Forest Service road that followed the drainage back to the highway. Fortunately, there was enough of a downgrade where we did not have to pop off our skis, we were able to pole and slide all the way back to the car. As we packed the VW, sipped Rainiers and prepped for the 5 hour drive back to Seattle, Ryan admitted to me that during the climb he was not at all convinced this was a good idea. That doubt vanished after making his first dozen turns; and was glad to have come along on this ski adventure.

Climbing route in red, descent in yellow

The first day I spent at Whistler was skiing with about a dozen friends from Seattle. We cruised groomers all day on both mountains under full bluebird skies.

Like any good day spent with friends, more than a couple of beers and margaritas were served up at Longhorn’s during après. After all the legendary skiing, incredible snow and challenging terrain; there is one other thing Whistler is known for: partying. Mix all these elements with a quality group of old friends and it’s really the perfect weekend, a Whistler Weekend.

More photos on Flickr, or check out the slideshow below.

Even though the focus of my recent visit to Korea was business, I did have a chance to sample some of the local recreation. On a visit to South Korea earlier this summer I discovered that several of my counterparts seem to enjoy skiing as much as I do. We showed each other ski pictures on our phones, and compared the different places we’ve skied. Several months later I hosted a delegation from Korea for some meetings we had in Seattle. When I introduced myself to one of them he replied, “You’re Andy?! You are famous in Korea. You are a skier, yes?” Apparently word had spread.

Prior to my December visit to Korea, I emailed a couple of these guys to let them know I was heading over. They responded: “Bring your ski gear.” Figuring I’d just rent skis, boots and poles; I packed everything else I would need to ski. I really did not know what to expect; frankly, I was surprised they even could ski in South Korea. Obviously I had not yet heard of Muju and the famous Deogyusan Resort.

Unfortunately the conditions were not ideal. December is still the early season, and Muju had not received much snow. The temperatures were cold though, and the resort made enough snow to open one run. My host on this excursion, BJ, wanted to know if I was still interested in the Korean ski experience despite this; my answer: absolutely. BJ and I took off from Sacheon in his SUV after work on a Wednesday evening. During the two hour drive we cruised through some breathtaking terrain. At one point I commented to BJ that a particular mountain looked pretty tall. He told me it is one of the highest peaks in South Korea. Very eloquently, he further explained that the mountain range we were driving through is known as the “Mother” mountains, because they are round and smooth. The mountains in the northern part of South Korea, near Pyeonchang, are the “Father” mountains because they are jagged, pointy and strong.

About 30 minutes from the resort we pulled off at a rest area for food. Like in the United States, the rest areas are just off the road and are apart of the highway system. Unlike most of the US though, they have fantastic food. Each stop is operated by different companies that compete with each other. I sampled some bibimbap, which became my favorite Korean dish. From here we began our climb into the mountains. A six lane highway winds around mountains and through tunnels. The road only leads to the resort; and the resort is big business. Dozens of ski rental shops and stores line each side of the road. The resort itself is impressive too. It features two base areas, a gondola and numerous restaurants, lodging and bars.

I rented skis, boots and poles at the base lodge. BJ is a season pass holder here and has his own locker. We stashed our dress shoes there and hit the slopes. The conditions were not exactly epic, but that did not matter. As someone who grew up skiing in Michigan; I am happy just to have my skis on my feet. This joy is also shared by people on the other side of the Pacific Ocean. Koreans take their skiing seriously. The Northwest philosophy of repairing tattered gear with duct tape has not gotten any traction in Korea: everyone had new-looking bright, matching outfits. I also noticed that many of the snowboarders completely removed the board from their feet while waiting in the lift line. I asked somebody about this and he told me that he spent a lot of money on his snowboard, and he didn’t want it getting all scratched up in line. Go figure. Another peculiar detail is the air hoses at the bottom of the hill. When you’re done skiing for the day, you take your gear to one of these hoses and blast off all the remaining snow. Near the bottom of the run they jammed a gigantic video screen into the side of the mountain. As you’re skiing down, you literally have to ski around it. The screen shows current conditions, time and other information. It has even been used to announce marriage proposals.

We skied for a couple of hours before making the drive back to Sacheon. I asked what time the hill closed for the night, and BJ said it stays open all night. After I expressed my surprise at this, he explained to me that the Korean people work very hard, so they only have time to enjoy these kinds of activities at night. He underscored this by pointing out a golf course that was lit up on our drive home. It was 30 degrees Fahrenheit and people were actually outside at 9 PM playing golf. Amazing.

The pictures here are snaps I made with an Apple iPhone 4. I shot video on a GoPro Hero2 HD and an Apple iPhone 4. The song is “Le Petit Prince (From Meine Meinung)” by cubesato.

During the first part of December I was in South Korea for work. I flew into Seoul and spent the night there before making my way down to Busan and eventually Changwon and Sacheon. Although I was in Korea for nearly two weeks; I had little time to myself. When I wasn’t otherwise engaged with business, I found some time to wander the streets with a camera.

The shot above is the Busan skyline reflecting in the Pacific Ocean. The Diamond Bridge is visible on the left. The bridge is officially named Gwangan Bridge, but the city of Busan decided “Gwangan” is too much of a mouthful for foreigners and gave it a new designation. Busan is the second largest city in Korea and is the nation’s major port. I passed through Busan at the beginning and end of my trip. Changwon, where I stayed, is just under an hour west of the Gimhae airport in Busan.

I began my trip by flying into Seoul. Exhausted from the trip, I feel asleep shortly after taking the limousine bus from Incheon into the city. The next morning before my flight I had a few hours and walked down the street to Changdeokgung Palace. Originally constructed in the early 1400s, much of the palace burned to the ground in 1592 during an invasion by the Japanese. Since then, the palace grounds have been rebuilt numerous times and housed the last emperor of Korea until his death in 1926.

After spending one night in Seoul, I caught a flight to Busan and from there took a taxi to Changwon. My accommodations for the next 11 days would be the Pullman Ambassador Hotel, home of this ridiculous flower horse. Changwon is primarily an industrial city; and is known to Koreans as the “Planned City.” Where as many of Korea’s cities are ancient; Changwon was primarily conceived in the later part of the 20th century. The main road in Changwon was built wide enough to land fighter jets; you know, just in case.

After eight straight days of obligations, I finally had a day off and took the recommendation of one of my hosts by taking a taxi to Haeundae Beach in Busan. Although it was cold enough for a down jacket, the Haeundae area is beautiful. The main beach is quite large and is literally across the street from downtown Haeundae. I was told during the summer seldom an open patch of sand is available. Just west of the beach is Camellia Park. Here the sand gives way to jagged rocks that plunge into the Pacific Ocean. A terraced walkway with footbridges criss crosses the terrain. Serendipitously, I timed my stroll during sunset and was treated to fantastic views of the Diamond Bridge, Haeundae Beach, the Nuri APEC House and the Five or Six Islets.

An elderly Korean man named Cho approached me while I was wandering around near the lighthouse in Camellia Park. Perfeclty fluent in English, he began explaining to me the significant landmarks of the area. Off in the distance on the other side of the bay were several islets. He explained to me that they are called the “Five or 6 Islets” because depending on the tide, five or six may be above water. After this, he gave me his business card and asked that I keep in touch. He suggested that next time I’m in Korea we have “juice” and “talk about this or that.”

I took this shot from nearly the same spot I photographed the skyline at the top of this post. The scene on this pier was vibrant. Fishermen were reeling in their last catch of the day, others already started cleaning the fish steps away from the water. Old men sat in lawn chairs and drank soju while couples and tourists alike gathered to watch the sunset.

I didn’t visit, but the sign certainly is badass.

After sunset I ventured into the downtown Haeundae area. It’s a dense urban area with many bars, restaurants, shopping and markets. One peculiar find was a bar called It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. It was obvious the bar owners did their best at mimicking the FX television series logo; but it was off just enough to know it was an officially sanctioned spin-off from the show. After grabbing dinner at an Indian restaurant, I wandered through the Haeundae Market. It’s a long alley between two blocks of tall buildings where you can find anything from clothes to live eels. I found a take of flounders to be particularly bizarre. I’m not sure I’d ever seen one of those alive, let alone dozens of them laying horizontally with both eyes on one side of their face.

Even though this is not Korea, I had to include a picture of Mount Fuji. On the way home, I flew from Busan to Narita before connecting to Seattle. As we approached Tokyo, Mount Fuji prominently rose above the landscape. Having my Olympus Pen E-P3 handy, I was able to get a few decent pictures from the window of the airplane. And since the cabin was relatively deserted, no body seemed to mind me moving from seat to seat to get an ideal shot.

More pictures of Korea on Flickr, or check out the slideshow below.

The storm raged all Thanksgiving night in the Central Cascades. When the dust cleared on Friday morning, 11″ of fresh snow fell on Crystal Mountain. Curtis, Gus, Beau, Austin and I did our best to chop through as much of that pow as possible. We had pretty good luck finding stashes and face shots all day. Then the big news dropped. Shortly after 1 PM Gus, who apparently was using his iPhone for more than texting and reading emails, pulled up the Crystal Mountain Ski Patrol Twitter feed and announced that Northway would be opening in 20 minutes. We’d heard blasts going off all day long over there; and now the ski patrol had done enough control work to safely open the zone for the first time this season. Since we were skiing High Campbell, we had to traverse the entire width of the resort to get there. After a few chairlift rides, buzzing down a cat track and 5 minutes of boot packing; we were ready to go. This video is from my first of two runs in Northway. I think Beau summed it up best, “that shit cray.”

Watch in HD.
If you’re on a iPhone or mobile device, watch it on Vimeo.

One of my favorite lines from last season was descending The Shuksan Arm just outside of the Mount Baker ski area. Ryan and I rode chair 8 up, and after getting grilled by a ski patroller, were allowed to leave the resort and skin along the ridge. It was late March and the snow was nearly perfect. Baker had been getting hammered all week, and this Sunday was the first time in days that the avalanche conditions were moderate enough to make a safe journey out onto the arm. After spending a little more than hour traversing the ridge, we ripped skins and charged down to the valley. The snow was light and crisp; turning was effortless.

With memories of this day in mind, Ryan and I returned to Shuksan Arm 8 months later, this time bringing along Keith, Beau, Gus, Megan and Austin. An early season storm had just cycled through the Mount Baker zone, and conditions looked ripe for a late November pow day. As always, I toted my Olympus Pen E-P3 camera for still photographs. This time out I brought along a new toy: a GoPro HD Hero2 video camera. Once we reached the top of the Arm, I strapped the camera to my dome and hit “REC.” I let it run the entire time we descended, about 25 minutes. The edit above compresses our descent to about 5 minutes, and uses still photographs I took on the skin up. The skiing at the top is steep, fun and deep. The skiing near the bottom is also steep, but our pace slows considerably as we try to maneuver treacherous cliffs, trees and rocks. The video is not intended to be a highlight reel; it’s a visual narrative of our approach, ascent and descent.

We parked in the lower lot of the Mount Baker ski area and skinned along a cat track that lead us to the base of Chair 8. Without having a specific ascent in mind, we decided to leave the ski resort and skin directly up the Arm. We also debated skinning up underneath Chair 8 and accessing the Arm via the backcountry gate up top; but that idea was quickly nixed because “skinning in a ski area is lame.” In hindsight, that probably would have been the quicker, safer way to access the Arm; but as Gus likes to say, he’ll try anything once.

In total, it took us about 4 hours to ascend the Arm. No skin track existed, but we were able to make use of tracks coming down the slope. We also did a fair amount of breaking trail. There were a couple of “oh shit” moments. Although our morning bluebird conditions gave way to overcast, visibility was still excellent. If nothing else, we could clearly see the predicaments we skinned our way into on the way up.

Once we reached the summit of the Arm, we traversed along the ridge towards Mount Shuksan. Beau, Megan and I climbed up a knob to have a look around and snap a few photos while the rest of the team waited below. With the area sufficiently explored and the daylight growing short, I locked down my heels and flipped on the GoPro.

Although it was only November, I think the snow this time was lighter and deeper than it was last March. The first 15 minutes of this descent might be the best snow I have ever skied.

More photos on Flickr, or check out the slideshow below.

All anyone could talk about all week was this “storm from ALASKA” that was sliding down the West Coast en route to the Cascades. Local ski areas kept up the stoke by posting pictures to Facebook of picnic tables with 4 inches of snow sitting on them and proclaiming “LA NIÑA has ARRIVED!” Amongst my friends, emails and text messages started flying around with links to weather forecasts and snowfall telemetry. Did I buy all this hype? Of course I did. I encouraged it.

The two most probable options were skiing Mount Rainier or near the Mount Baker Ski Area. Later in the week it became clear that Baker got the worst (the best) of it; and about 10 of us made plans to rendezvous in Seattle for a 5:30 AM departure on Sunday morning. I cruised up I-5 with Curtis before peeling off to scoop up Russ, who now lives in Mount Vernon. My VW, sans chains, carried the three of us the length of Highway 542 all the way to the upper lot of the ski area. Shortly after 9 AM we left the car with skis on our feet—something worth noting since I hadn’t been able to do this since July.

Russ, Curtis and I vectored towards Table Mountain and the Blueberry Chutes. About 45 minutes into our tour we happened to run into Tristan and Bobby, who joined us for the rest of the climb. Visibility was good enough for safe skiing; but barely passable for photography. Overcast skies and light snow falling all day created flat light conditions. We were treated to a few glances of the summit of Table Mountain, but most of the day it was shrouded in weather.

We shot one of the Blueberry Chutes for our first lap. The snow was deep and heavy, although not deep enough in some areas. Tristan tripped a snow shark that knocked off one of his skis. The edge looked a little bent, but nothing a quality shop couldn’t hammer back into place.

For our second lap, we ascended the ridge a little higher and found an untrafficked chute. After skiing the lower angle upper part of the slope, we traversed left and encountered a deliciously steep line that took us all the way to the lake. I employed the standard “let me ski this first so I can get pictures of you guys” pitch; and let loose down the 40 degree fall line. I tend to get some looks for having a heavier touring setup; but today my 115mm waisted skis were worth every ounce when the rockered tips blistered through the heavy November powder. After grabbing some shots of the crew halfway down, I returned the favor and let everyone blaze trail ahead of me towards the lake.

Bobby and Tristan called it a day after two laps, but Curtis, Russ and I wanted to squeeze one more descent in before heading to the car. We skinned up to the same chute as before and cashed in on the remaining freshies.

When we arrived back at the car, the other half of our expedition left a message on the hood of my VW. They were about 30 minutes ahead of us; and came up with an excellent exit strategy: beers at Boundary Bay. When we all convened over brews in Bellingham; Doug, Beau, Joe, Andrew and Aaron filled me in on how their day skiing in the resort proper was. Although the chairs weren’t uploading yet, they skied a few tree runs and even carved their way through the Canyon (video). From all accounts, it sounds as if their day was as excellent as ours.

More photos available on Flickr, or just check out the slideshow below.

Only two weeks after our icy adventure up Mount Baker’s Coleman Glacier, we returned to the Heliotrope Ridge trailhead for round II. Even on the drive in it was evident that we would be dealing with drastically different conditions. The snowline is now well below the parking lot (3,650′), making the last mile or so treacherous. I was happy to let Gus maneuver his Subaru along the winding road; had we been in my Volkswagen I would have chained up. Stepping out of the car at the trailhead the first thing that struck me was how cold it was. Keith, Gus and I quickly geared up and started hiking the Hogsback. The mud and rocks of October were now covered with snow and ice. We gladly endured knowing that less than a couple hours up the trail would be our first taste of powder for the season.

Keith turned 27 years old on this Sunday. It was also his first time touring and using his new setup. Mount Baker is a pretty ambitious introduction to backcountry skiing. Both enthusiastic and overwhelmed, Keith’s comments ranged from “this is so fucking sweet” to “I need a break!” He hung in there though, and after taking one powdery lap down the glacier, I’m pretty sure we hooked him.

After grabbing a quick snack and changing into ski boots, we started skinning up the Coleman Glacier. We were hardly the only skiers out that day. We encountered at least two dozen other skiers and snowboarders. There were even a few dogs getting in on the fresh powder. During our first descent one of the dogs chased Gus for a good 500 feet.

Gus took the above shot with his iPhone 4S. With a little post processing in Lightroom, the new 4S is capable of producing surprisingly rich images. In my hands is the Olympus PEN EP-3 fitted with the 14-150mm zoom. This setup has become the workhorse of my recent outdoor and travel photography.

For our first run, we headed up Heliotrope ridge and skied from there. Gus and I made turns through shin deep powder for just over 1000′ before slapping skins back on and heading up for round two.

For lap number two we stayed to the climber’s left and vectored toward the Coleman-Deming col. After reaching 7500 feet we transitioned and skied the fall line down to the toe of the Coleman Glaicer (~6000 feet). The descent here was lower angle, which allowed the powdery snow to pile up deeper. Seldom did either of us reach the bottom of the fresh stuff to scrape the icy crust we skied two weeks prior. Halfway down I said to Gus that this wasn’t good. He looked at me incredulously and responded, “what are you talking about?! This is GREAT!!!” I said, “I know. We’re getting spoiled.” Shin deep blower pow and bluebird on a wide open glacier is not typical Washington skiing; and we were getting treated to this in early November. Six months had passed since either of us had skied snow like this. In our outings from May through October, we skied all kinds of corn, slush, ice and crust. These adventures were nothing short of exciting, but are more or less methadone for a powder-addict in recovery. Making turns in the fluff has a certain kind of friendly familiarity; it reminds you of everything you love about skiing. Once experienced, it’s a hard habit to kick. After six months of sobriety I couldn’t be happier to fall off the wagon again.

The lower we went on the glacier, the higher the rock to pow ratio rose. After a few brutal sounding scrapes, we popped off our skis and trotted down the Hogsback to the car. As tabulated by Gus, the numbers for Sunday’s ski were as follows: 4600 feet of climbing and 2300 feet of skiing over two laps. We reached a peak elevation of 7500 feet.

More photos on Flickr, or watch the slideshow below.