Nothing to Strava About
Deep power and steep slopes are every skiers’ dream, but each winter produces periods when the snow hose turns off, you have to travel further for powder if any can be found, and steep skiing doesn’t sound appealing. We’d gone over a week without snow in Southwest Montana. Coupled with several days of above freezing temperatures, great ski conditions were not likely. Our options were to sit home and sulk or to get creative.
After studying maps, Mike and I found an outing for the conditions we were faced with. We had explored this area on foot and on skis before, so we knew the tour was long, a tootle really, without too many steep spots. If conditions were bad, we wouldn’t be committed to prolonged challenges. The weather forecast called for sunny skies, a temperature inversion was expected to produce weather near freezing temperatures higher up in the mountains, and winds were expected to be calm.
The day started as many ski outings do by noshing on breakfast sandwiches at one of our favorite places before making the drive to the trailhead. We joined only one other car in the parking lot and set out in minus seven-degree weather.
As promised, it was perfectly sunny. My hands tingled, and a chill could be felt through my ski pants as we began the rhythmic shuffle across the long, wide-open expanse. Sun wasn’t yet at full force and I kept reminding myself that constant movement would eventually fend off the cold.
A creek meandered through the silent flat valley. Numerous animal tracks snaked through the area yet ours were the only ski tracks. Even with trail breaking we moved with ease passing the time quickly. Soon we were at the first part of the climb through some trees that took us to the ridgeline. Here we undulated in and of the trees as we gained elevation and mountainous terrain came into view.
Fire-charred trees, something we don’t often ski near, we found in intermittent clumps. Their foreboding mangled form added a blackness not often found in the white, blue and green landscape of typical sunny winter day. Evergreen trees sported crisp ginger needles. The destruction of forest fire brought a beauty I hadn’t expected.
Eventually, we reach the saddle and pleasant weather persisted. Skies were a stunning cerulean, and Wyoming’s Teton mountains protruded off in the distance. At this point, we had climbed enough vertical feet to find treeline nearing. Red rocks jutted off a nearby ridgeline and snow abound. On this clear day during pinnacle of daylight, the snow shined producing multitude shades of white only a paint manufactures can name.
The summit was an easy yet windswept skin above us. Unlike last time we were here on skis, visibility was not a problem. Knowing you don’t get many days like this up here, we headed for the summit even though we knew the ski down wasn’t likely to be good.
Conditions soon became more wind scoured and then turned to sastrugi. One last push and we were on top. The long grass we remembered enjoying during the summer was sticking out of the snow, standing proud yet remarkably still. Not far from us a few mountains goats munched on grass, their job made easy by the strong winds that revealed intermittent dirt.
After taking in the view, we started down. It was survival skiing on the sastrugi, the longest patch of it I’ve ever skied, but the pitch was gentle and it was quickly over without mishap. Soon we were back at the saddle and a steeper pitch off of it. With mountains off in the distance, we reached the ridgeline where we connected delightful, effortless turns in the low-angle meadow.
Mike and I regrouped after some shuffling and then pushed on to the next low-angle meadow. Mike skied first, and the sight was stunning, burnt black trees and stark white show against a backdrop of cloudless skies. I knew my camera skills would not allow me to capture it perfectly and as I type, I realize no words can encapsulate the scene. It is an image to stay in my mind alone.
Back at the last patch of steep trees, the coverage was decent, but we experienced some moments of wallowing in the unconsolidated snow. Terrain then opened revealing a wide open and untracked hillside. Here we linked turns and skied right into a shadow knowing that the sun-protected snow would remain consistent offering excellent turns back to the flats. A sweet payoff.
On the valley floor, we hoped to swoosh out but soon realized we had to put skins on as gliding was not an option and shuffling was torture. I didn’t realize how pancake flat this area was until now.
The mountains we skied towards along the ridge remained in view and began to blush in the dwindling daylight. Just when I thought the stunning palette of colors couldn’t get any better we skinned along a steep hillside, both charred and healthy trees bathed in gold.
Although it wasn’t a super demanding day in terms of climbing, my legs began to speak to me. I knew my thighs would be fine, we didn’t cover prolonged steep terrain, but it was my hips. The kick and glide of skiing across a flat surface after a long approach was a lot. I was ready to be done.
We arrived back at the car with minutes of daylight remaining. I was tired but not exhausted, my body was ready for a rest. It was a stellar eight-hour outing. Long days like these don’t usually come until much later in the season so a big day out relatively early on left me feeling proud of my accomplishment.
Although it wasn’t a super demanding day in terms of climbing, my legs began to speak to me. I knew my thighs would be fine, we didn’t cover prolonged steep terrain, but it was my hips. The kick and glide of skiing across a flat surface after a long approach was a lot. I was ready to be done.
We arrived back at the car with minutes of daylight remaining. I was tired but not exhausted, my body was ready for a rest. It was a stellar eight-hour outing. Long days like these don’t usually come until much later in the season so a big day out relatively early on left me feeling proud of my accomplishment.
Getting through the charred trees was a bit tighter than we realized as black marks littered our jackets, packs and pants. Kind of a bummer, especially the given my pants are new and yellow, but I didn’t care. I was content. The day was perfect.Perhaps that’s the beauty of reaching the half century mark. All of the things you always knew in your younger years, that you should spend less time concerning yourself with others and wondering if your day was hard-core enough, you’re finally ready to let go. You now have the age and the wisdom to accept what comes your way. You’re more willing to be content with perfect weather, a stunning landscape, and the serenity of having it all to yourselves. You’re gratified with the joy of a long day, and you know there are a whole slew of conditions, not just powder and steep terrain, that make memorable backcountry tour. All it takes is a few of the required conditions to make a ski worth it and today was one of those days
Our outing isn’t an epic ski tour. You won’t see this trip profiled in any Strava reports, and you won’t read about this tour in a glossy ski magazine. Back at the saddle we both agreed that while it was nice to be up there, it wouldn’t make ant top ten lists. It was a lot of trudging for not many turns and rather dull skiing. It was a long tootle for sure.
While I really hope for snow, I’m simultaneously planning my next powder day and my next long tootle. I can't wait for both.
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