LINES LEFT TO RIGHT Toby Parke taking advantage of prime springtime conditions. JG harvesting corn on an offshoot of Hillman’s Highway, one of the longest routes on Mount Washington’s Tuckerman Ravine. The bowl appeared out of nowhere. It was lit up like a brightly glowing light bulb and you could almost feel the sunrays bounce back from a half-mile away. Backdropped by a bluebird sky and with not a hint of wind in the air, I knew we had made the right decision. I even started to question why I hadn’t come sooner. Nathanael’s and Toby’s eyes said, “I told you so.” My first snack of the day was a hefty slice of humble pie. I continued hiking behind JG and Toby, who led the push for-ward after our crew rested, recharged, and got water at the Hermit Lake Shelters, a campsite on the eastern slopes of the mountain. Toby is more than 10 years my elder and has visited Tuckerman Ravine numerous times. JG has been riding Mount Washington since the late ’70s and early ’80s, even testing some of Burton’s ear-ly prototypes there. Because I find the coolest part of snowboard-ing to be how well we share knowledge and experiences between generations, it felt fitting to hike with them as I learned more about this iconic place. We meandered to the base of the aptly dubbed Lunch Rocks where we regrouped for a closer look at Tuckerman. JG pointed out different routes like Left Gully, Right Gully, the Chute, Hill-man’s Highway, and the Wall. Thanks to some late-season storms the snow looked incredible, the canvas virtually untouched. No big runnels, no sluff at the bottom of each run, and seemingly very rideable from top to bottom. As we scoped, we saw the familiar faces of Eli Olson and Bar Dadon begin to hike up the bootpack, which looked like a string of ants climbing up a ladder. Some folks riding down delivered a slushy report, so we decided to drop the ice axes and make our ascent. We hiked Left Gully because it was a more gradual pitch, rather than going straight up the center of the bowl. Halfway up and looking back, my semi-sickening instincts reminded me that I’m afraid of heights. As I inched toward the top my second help-ing of humble pie was well digested, this time I accepted firsthand how gnarly of a place Tuckerman is. It turned out I wasn’t alone as most of our crew felt more proficient at riding than hiking. Atop the bowl, all we had to guide us were some photos we’d shot on our phones and a few mental markers we’d made on the way up. Nathanael insisted on going first so he could shoot all of us riding down. We lost sight of him shortly after he dipped over a butterfly-inducing convex roll, but he buzzed the radio a minute later and reported the snow was great. By then it was 50 degrees Fahrenheit, the sun was beaming on us from every direction, and it was still only 10 a.m. We knew the snow wouldn’t hold up for long. JG led Holly and Tomas toward Center Gully and the Lip, which they all ripped together. Toby and Sam rode a line together through the ice-fall straight down the bowl. Watching as everyone disappeared into what felt like the great beyond, it became even easier to sense why people flock to Mount Washington every spring by the thousands. I was next. I reached down and ratcheted my straps one more time, pulled my backpack’s chest strap tight, then signaled my drop. My edges ripped into the face of the chute, allowing me to turn on the flank I’d scoped from below. Regrouping with the crew at Lunch Rocks, we quickly set off for another hike to the top. We were ex-cited to take the next run all the way to the valley floor. 106 THE SNOWBOARDER’S JOURNAL
The Snowboarder's Journal The Snowboarder's Journal 21.4: Page 106
