THE LESS OBVIOUS Words Elena Hight “Elena Hight riding through the desert at sunrise, approaching an eastern Sierra peak outside Bishop, CA. E-bikes, particularly full-suspension bikes, have become an integral part of our kits. They allow us to approach objectives more efficiently via old mining roads and trails. This day we biked over four miles and 2,000 vertical feet to snowline. It’s faster than a car on road sections, especially on the down, and allows us to ride cross country and single track where cars can’t go. Plus, it’s just more fun.” Photo: Ming Poon IT WAS LATE INTO MAY , bordering on June, which after a long winter can feel too late to still be amping to shred. However, with so much snow lingering and a forecast for great weather, photog-rapher Ming Poon and I decided to strike mission to the east side of the Sierra for a few days of spring corn harvesting. En route, we met up with local east side crusher Zak Mills and car camped on a lonely dirt road at about 5,500 feet of elevation. We spent the evening staring into the range, scheming about timing, ap-proach options, and all the potential the range had to offer after a record-breaking winter. We landed on an objective for the fol-lowing day: a front range peak that we could see from camp—not the tallest mountain around, but one that had a perfect couloir on it just asking to be ridden in boot-deep signature Sierra corn. We rolled out of our camp at dawn. Sunrise over the Great Basin Desert is always beautiful, but watching the colors come to life while casually e-biking towards snow-covered mountains really upped the ante. This year, because of the massive amounts of water, the desert was completely green and blooming with wildflowers. A sea of bright purple lupines, pops of pink desert peach, yellow brittlebush, and bright red Indian paintbrush cov-ered the hills. Cruising up dirt roads for around six miles and 2,000 verti-cal feet, it took us about two hours to get to our start zone. We never would have made it to our objective without super capable e-bikes, which have become a total game-changer for spring ap-proaches when the roads are closed and the snowline is high. With an historical melt-off underway, we rallied through what felt like full blown rivers running down the road. Mostly un-scathed (despite a few hard bails off the bikes with splitboards on our backs) we arrived at snowline. Shoes off, boots and skins on. The switch of approach mode is always kind of nice: new muscles, new blisters, new outfits. Now at about 7,500 feet, we aimed to gain another 4,500 or so to the top. The objective was just behind the ridgeline in front of us. It held a pretty consistent 40–45-degree incline, starting with a few open panels leading into a wide, bending couloir flowing into various drainages back down to the desert. When choosing objectives or lines, it is easy to get pulled to the biggest, steepest, most impressive mountain one can see. However, being open to the less obvious, the hidden lines, or less proud mountains can lead to the true hidden gems of the range. Sure, standing on the highest peak around is fun and satisfy-ing, but oftentimes the highest quality turns are found around the corner and just out of sight. While this objective wasn’t the proudest peak on the horizon, it was an obvious couloir sur-rounded by large granite walls tucked away beneath its towering neighbors—something special you could easily overlook if you solely scanned the skyline. Our approach was straight forward and began in large sun cups. A heat wave had arrived a few days prior and really took its toll on lower elevations, but cool early morning temps allowed us to glide over the divots towards better snow up high. One section of bushwhacking to get over the first ridge then straight on till morning—or more precisely, straight on to the couloir. The excit-ing morning e-bike ride started to fade the same way sunrises tend to do as the day presses on. At the base of the couloir, we were met with perfect boot-pack-ing conditions; snow that is still mostly frozen from the previous night yet soft enough to get your toes into the top layer and feel secure with each step, without sinking in. The type of snow that’s about as close as you can get to an automatic stair stepper at the gym. Reliable, consistent, and allowing a fast, rhythmic pace. Zak took the lead and we continued on. Zak is a staple in the Eastern Sierra shredding scene, having ridden most of the mountains we could see over the previous few months. Nevertheless, he hadn’t touched this one. 062 THE SNOWBOARDER’S JOURNAL
The Snowboarder's Journal The Snowboarder's Journal 21.3: Page 62
