Sweet write up...getting me psyched for a spring trip...

Now that is a Mt. Washington kind of ski day!


On Sun, 12 Mar 2006 19:03:14 -0500, WM Walker <[log in to unmask]> wrote:

>Day 48, 2005-2006
>Boott Spur (el. 5,500’), Main Gully GOS, NH
>March 11, 2006
>
>Took a roll of the dice with this one. The weather window looked like it
>would be cracked open for a NH trip. Not wide open but maybe…
>Standing in the Pinkham parking lot looking up at the mountain range I had
>that sinking feeling I’d be seeing snake eyes. Gray and boiling the clouds
>were socked in hard, whipping over the summits with a howl that registered
>all the way down here in the pass. But the dice were still rolling and I
>looked keenly at the south end of the range. The wind was out of the NW and
>therefore the wind was descending the SE aspect of the range. A pocket of
>sunny periods were opening on the Gulf of Slides. Maybe…
>Waiting until 10 pm it was clear this wasn’t going to be the day I had
>planned. The clouds remained socked in, the wind howled out of the NW and
>worse still, the temperature hung on in the 20’s at 4000’- bad news for
>ambitions of steep skiing. But that pesky opening hung on over GOS so I 
made
>the decision to try and summit Boott Spur via the Main Gully of GOS. 
Perhaps
>in the lee of the wind it was sheltered enough to gather the intermittent
>sun and soften up. That was the idea at least.
>Went up GOS ski trail to the floor of the ravine without any drama. The ski
>trail has surprisingly good conditions coverage wise. In the sun the snow
>softened nicely while anything shadowed remained hard boiled crushed white
>china. It was obvious that the previous days warm temperatures had released
>a lot of free water into the snow pack and it had frozen solid overnight,
>leaving that pesky ice-lace confection that defies carefree skiing.
>At the floor of the ravine the main gully climbed 1100’ vertical feet up to
>the rounded ridge of Boott Spur. Looked pretty darn thin for March 11 I’m
>afraid. More like flippin' May. Ah the vagaries of the New England winter. 
I
>spied a group of three climbers though- visitors to what had until then 
felt
>like my very own side of the mountain. They were very high in the gully at
>the crux snow pitch before the scree field to the summit.
>Switching to axe and crampons I climbed the gully straight away. Good
>crampon conditions- hard ice which gave away a bit when kicked. Bad
>snowboarding. Or more to the point, demanding snowboarding. I punched up 
the
>middle of the gully disappointed and a bit mad. The sun was out and yet
>barely scratched the surface of the icy slope. 8 degrees warmer and I’d a
>been thinking all kinds of crazy thoughts about the more bizarre lines
>dropping of this side of Boott Spur. As it was I was left contemplating 
just
>how much I ran the file across those edges. Enough for this?
>The wind blasted over the ridge in the intermittent 40 to 50 mph range- 
hard
>enough to knock you off your feet if you weren’t paying attention. I really
>took my time on the climb, hope against hope that the sun would 
miraculously
>transform the slope in front of me. A fool’s errand. It was 1:45 pm and 
time
>to head down.
>I spied the three climbers across the chute hunkered down in a semi
>sheltered spot out of the wind. They couldn’t have been gomers. Not here,
>not in these conditions. So against my very nature I traversed the top of
>the chute to say hi. Three tele skiers it turns out they said they were
>waiting to see if the snow would soften. We hunker down in the wind and
>chat. They could see the writing on the wall too however and soon we were
>all getting our glisse apparatus together.
>The three guys were ready about when I was and I indicated that they could
>go first if they wanted- why not? Not like there’s glory powder down there.
>Well, the first guy starts down the 35-40 degree slope in a bomber side-
slip
>stance. A nuclear detonation wasn’t going to wipe this guy out. Two turns
>and 200’ feet later he stops near some trees, putting an end to the
>screeching whine of his edges. The way he stopped reminded me of John
>Cusack’s “Better Off Dead” character skiing through the slalom finish line,
>stopping and turning to hear his time while his nemesis waits and waits to
>stop the clock. Oh, too bad Lane, better luck next year.
>Guy number two starts down and with his buddy’s edges still ringing in our
>ears proceeds to self destruct right in front of us. He executes one right
>turn and immediately his left ski is off. Like his DIN is set to 2. He’s on
>his side in an instant and all four of us are thinking the same thing- 
Slide
>for Life my friend...
>He’s scratching frantically at the ice / snow combo trying to slow down;
>meanwhile his left ski is cart wheeling down the couloir right at Guy 
number
>one. I’m thinking I’m about to see a guy decapitated with a ski, sort of
>forgetting about Guy number two and how he’s making out with the whole
>stopping thing. Guy number one executes a sort of curtsey and deflects the
>ski with his ski boot- ole’! Guy number two claws to a stop in a shower of
>ice crystals and good fortune. His ski disappears down the throat of the
>chute with a diminishing clatter like someone’s tossed a set of china down
>the concrete side of a dam.
>I turn to look at guy number three standing on his skis next to me. He 
looks
>back at me and says simply “I think I’ll walk”.
>I laugh heartily and dive down the slope- skiing away from this madness and
>the inescapable notion that nothing is a sure thing. The dice roll down the
>table and you place your bets… Nothing more, nothing less.
>
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