“Nick Russell skins toward Mt. Whitney (at 14,505 feet, the tallest peak in the lower 48) on his birthday. Nick, Jim Zellers, Jeremy Jones, Seth Lightcap, Glen Poulsen, John and Jim Morrison, Michelle Parker and I all climbed the Mountaineers Route and rode Mt. Whitney via its North Face. Aside from being great ski/riding partners, most of us are also very close friends. The coverage was great all over the Sierra, but conditions really weren’t ideal for this objective on this day. The access road to the normal trailhead was closed because of snow and rockfall, so we had to climb from the very bottom in the desert. It’s a little more than 8,000 vertical feet to the sum-mit from where we started. We all moved fast and had some great—and not so great—turns on the way down. Regardless, we rode off the summit all the way to the pavement, where we walked a short distance to the cars, cold beers, snacks and soaks in the running creek. It was a very memorable birthday for Nick, and a special day for all.” Photo: Ming Poon 8/15/16—JOHN MUIR WILDERNESS THE WONDERFUL PROBLEM A lifetime of descents in one ridge, one mountain, one view. How can that be? The ridge is 15 miles long. Every 100 yards is a new couloir— maybe a hundred in total—and in each couloir are multiple options. The lines are probably in proper form 50 days per year and it is a day’s walk to get here. If you sleep in a tent you could probably do three in a day. The same scenario plays out on the mountain just to my right. If I do a circle, I see a total of five major mountains, all with the same story. And this is from the valley below. If I was to stand atop one of these, I would see a sea of mountains stretching endlessly to the hori-zon, all with the same story. Herein lies the wonderful problem. This view, this scenario, plays out over and over in the valleys, drainages and Sierra mountains stretching 450 miles in length and as much as 30 miles in width. This view, all these mountains, is why there is not an end game, no retire-ment, no finish line to my snowboarding. It is why I stay strong. To add intimate meaning to this landscape, I need to be able to walk far with a heavy pack, sleep in a tent, wake up early, hike all day, and do it repeatedly. The Sierra is guarded by long approaches, alder-choked drainages and wind-scoured flanks. At a younger age, I cursed the inac-cessibility; complained about the lack of roads and resorts and the bans on snowmobiles and helicopters. Taking in the view, I wonder if I will return here when the snow covers these giants. Or will I be distracted by the thousands of other options? It is not a question that keeps me up at night, though. I have learned not to get tied down by a never-ending “hit list.” I am at peace with the fact that most of these mountains will never see my footsteps or my snowboard. The goal is to become immersed in nature, become inspired by it, to learn from it, to become one with it. Just to set foot in these special places, just to know they exist, is extremely rewarding. Every walk, every trip, every view plants new seeds. Which ones will ripen and blossom? SIERRA MOUNTAINS 045
The Snowboarder's Journal frequency 15.3 : Page 45
