“Nick Russell blasting turns on the steep face of Middle Palisade. This section was in perfect condition. Nick made six turns through 1,000 feet of vertical despite the ever-present exposure below. As you can see, slough was running. I was probably more puckered than him.” Photo: Ming Poon Nothing is guaranteed in the mountains until you’re back at the bottom looking up at your tracks. That said, this was one of those days where everything felt right. I didn’t vocalize that we got this, but it’s important to acknowledge and embrace the faint voice in our minds telling us to keep going. The deck was undeniably stacked in our favor. The snowpack was healthier than it had ever been and after a winter of lines our fitness had reached a seasonal high. Ample days on the steeps by this time of year added maximum comfort to a precarious environment. Two hours spent climbing on the face translated to a symbiotic relationship with the route and current riding conditions. It’s as good as it gets, I thought as we rhythmically worked our way up in cold, boot-top powder. Breaking trail up the belly of the beast, small spindrifts kept me honest as they occasionally started to break free from the rocks above and gain momentum down the runnels between the spines we were on. Rapid warming with unsettled snow is one of my biggest concerns, but thank-fully, a thin layer of clouds kept things cool enough to maintain a reasonable level of avalanche safety. Seeing how much loose snow there was delicately hanging on the mountain, sluff was the pri-mary hazard and staying the course on the highpoints as much as possible became the goal. Moving through the motions in that prolonged flow state is the product of time well spent. The top-out view of a new-to-you peak is what we search for. A fresh perspective on a familiar place opens a portal to the deepest reaches of the range and sets plans for years to come. With the most serious part of the day still ahead, the reprieve from con-stant movement over the past eight hours was brief. Despite likely being my most consequential line of the season, I felt a peaceful calm. After navigating the crux, the possibility to freeride a big, High Sierra line was now a reality. The opportunity to open it up on a face of this size is perhaps rarer than the line itself. It’s this fleeting moment, suspended in time, that brings affirmation to this wild life we pursue. “Noing is gu teed in e mo tains til you’re back at e bottom looking up at your tracks.”
The Snowboarder's Journal The Snowboarder's Journal 21.3: Page 57
