It was our last weekend before Tasha's approaching departure to India. With the weather to be reasonable but on the cooler side, we decided to postpone rock climbing until our return from the other side of the Prime Meridian. After postponing an earlier reconnaissance up Herman Gulch due to iffy weather, it seemed like a good destination. Besides after dropping money on my new K2 Shuksan skis, I felt like I needed to get on them as much as possible to see returns in my investment.
We exited I-70 at the unnamed exit situated between the Loveland Pass exit and the Bakersville one. A short drive up a dirt potholed frontage brought us to our trailhead, which was littered with patchy snow. So another trip starting with Ryan hiking in his ski boots. Hmm...
The hiking was steep enough to not be boring and not to far in, I slapped the planks on....and then took them off to cross a bare stretch of trail....and then back on with the planks.....and then off come the skis again...well, you get the idea. Finally we hit some full snow, albeit slightly icy, coverage. After climbing up over 600 feet in elevation, things began leveling off as we entered the namesake of this post.
The temps were pleasant, the terrain simple and plenty of eye candy to keep the mind busy while you kick and glide - or in Tasha's case, crunch along in snowshoes. A short break was taken to soak up the views and for Ryan to address the growing hotspots on the sides of his heels. It rather is bothersome having skinny heels.
EDITOR NOTE: It's rather interesting hearing the difference in musical taste Tasha and I have. I have gone from Soel and Radiohead to the 80s remix of "Putting on the Ritz". Where is my OP T-shirt? Now back to our exciting tale:
The moleskin and tape patch job wasn't cutting it. With my ambitious aspirations in the corporeal embodiment of Pettingal Peak perched a couple miles at the head of the gulch, it was time to come up with a plan B. Thankfully there was plenty to choose from. Meet Mount Machebeuf:
A lift of the heel lifters to maximum and we began climbing up the ever-steepening slope that splayed out to the north of the mount's rocky west rib. Did I mention there is no oxygen at 11,000 feet? With calves screaming and forward progress on skis sketchy, I found a spot on the edge of the gully and took the skis off. Looking down I began doubting my ability to ski this line. An internal debate in my mind began to be waged, the victim was my water bottle that somehow popped out of my backpack pocket and began a 600-foot slide down the slope (I swear I heard it go "Weee!!").
With a cavalier attitude, I strapped the skis to my backpack and started kicking steps into the snow, which was no angling at 50 degrees and more. After some more calf screaming, I looked up to see that exit out of the gully would be nebulous. A cornice crowned most of the summit delta and a loaded section guarded its flank. The angle lessened some before it's final steep couple hundred feet to the summit plateau and it was here where I brought out the avalanche shovel to dig a snow divan for Tasha and myself.
While not the summit and not our original goal, it still deserved some merit. A look north shows Pettingal Peak on the left:
A look to the northwest
And to the west is Mt Bethel. This peak is readily seen to the north of I-70. It has a large avalanche gully. The slide took out a large swatch of trees and actually buried I-70 under 10 feet of debris a few years back. It can be pointed out when driving back east from the Eisenhower Tunnel as the bare peak with wind fences lining it's western side.
After a quick bite, it was time to test my mettle, and skiing abilities to boot. After a few deep breaths I turned'em downhill. Some wide turns warmed up my quads and also gave me an idea of how much this gully would slide. Thankfully I only cut down one small avalanche that was no more than 10 feet wide and slid 30 feet or less. Hitting the apex of the slope, I became more aggressive and linked some rather nice parallel turns -- don't be impressed, I'm sure it was an idiot savant moment.
Before I would like, I was at my forlorn water bottle, which was rescued from it's snowy sunbathing and back down into the gulch. Looking back up, Tasha decided the slope was too steep for unrolling her sled - I think she could have reached Mach 2 personally - and was glissading down.
With only minor blisters, we climbed up another slope, dotted with conifer saplings to the beginning of a couloir containing an embedded chokestone. We both were wishing we had brought our ice axes and crampons seeing this slinky couloir. The trip down was good slalom skiing on very saturated corn snow. Tasha finally produced the sled from her backpack and enjoyed her trip down:
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