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04-30-2019, 03:16 PM #1
TR – Desert corn, NV/UT 2019 harvest
Warning: this TR features lots of pictures and even more words - read at your own peril!
The 2018-2019 winter will go down as one of best in recent memory for us Utards. Storms rolling in like clockwork starting late November, great low elevation snowpack, no persistent instabilities, all the ingredients for more great ski days than Brigham Young had wives... Literally EVERYTHING in the range was in. Classic lines went down in deep pow, sketchy lines turned into milk runs, terrifying lines became almost manageable, and dumb lines of the take-your-skis-on-a-multi-pitch-rappel-adventure variety turned out to only require a couple of 60m ropes…
There is a major problem when the Wasatch is this good though: it’s nearly impossible to leave. I usually make it a point to get out of the pen a few times a year to ski some novelty lines but so far this season had failed miserably with only 4 days outside of the central 'Satch.
I finally ran out of local dumb ideas in mid-April after putting a bigger dent in my to-do list than in the last 5 years combined. To celebrate the occasion I decided to partially tear my hamstring skiing mashed potatoes. Perfect timing! I needed a few days off anyway, some time to rest, do yard work, actually go to work (ew), and come up with an objective more than 20 minutes away from the house. Fast forward two weeks and my hami still felt tender. It was getting warm as hell and I couldn’t spend any more time drawing lines on CalTopo while muttering about the unfairness of life. My dear wife informed me that she’d had it with my constant weeping and gnashing of teeth and that if I didn’t GTFO of town for a while I would be at risk of a much more serious injury (at her hand).
Not wanting to find out if she was serious (she usually is) I packed the truck and headed out. The plan was to drive to the Snake Range in Nevada (Great Basin NP), ski Wheeler Peak and Doso Doyabi (or White Moutain, the soon-to-be official Shoshone name of Jeff Davis Peak), then get back into Utah and the Deep Creek Range to ski Ibapah Peak and Red Mountain. Both ranges are small and very isolated with huge prominence over the surrounding desert (7500’ for Wheeler). The lines on each peak hold snow well into the spring and are very visible when driving around the West Desert. I’ve been drooling over them for years. There are also a bunch of hot springs in the area and the beer drinking potential is limitless. I couldn’t round up a partner (everyone was busy doing their own dumb stuff) which meant the threshold for bailing would be low as fucking up out there would be high-consequence.
I took a SPOT device with me to keep my better half informed of my whereabouts and headed West into the sunset, or as the case may be got stuck in SLC rush-hour traffic in a downpour:
After 3 hours I was finally off-pavement and heading toward better weather. The Deep Creek Range in the distance:
Local wildlife with the mighty House Range in the background, big old Notch Peak on the far right:
Hot spring #1 turned out to be an infernally hot and very shallow seep choke-full of reeds. Also, it’s definitely haunted:
The next 2 springs were similar, shallow seeps infested with reeds. Can’t really tell from the satellite pictures which make them look like actual pools. Oh well, it made for some scenic driving as Wheeler slowly came into view:
Oooooooooooohhh! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!
With all the wandering around on dirt roads I got into NV later than I wanted and had to pass on the entertainment offered at the Border Inn, a quality gas station/casino/motel establishment sitting 20’ across the border. Gotta lure those West Desert Mormons into this backwater Sin City somehow… I headed straight into the park and to the upper campsite at 7700’ where a number of campers were freezing their asses off already and happily running their generators. I read that Baker (the closest “town”) is a hub for star gazers as it has some of the darkest skies in the country. Up in the park with no moon it was shockingly dark but the constant hum of the petrotainment machines was hard to get away from. I eventually moved a “road closed” sign and drove a bit further in the campground to find some quiet by the creek. The forecast was for a decent refreeze but I had a S face climb planned for later in the day and didn’t want to risk getting there late. Up at 4:45 for breakfast:
And on the trail by 5:30, a bit late as that amount of food takes some time to get through. After 1.5 miles on dirt the snow became consistent around 8900’. I stashed my shoes in a tree and started skinning. About 15 minutes later I caught the sunrise:
And my first glimpse of Wheeler Peak:
I wandered a bit too far to the E while skinning in the dark and had to traverse across a couple of gigantic glacial cirques. Lots of couloirs to gape at:
No matter how many times I remind myself that it’s really hard to gauge the size of a shot from the bottom I always get tricked. This gully looked short and pleasant but turned out to be a continuous 1600’ slog to the peak's shoulder:
The ridge itself was super windy and scoured with a nice mix of exposed rocks and sastrugi. Ski crampons worked for a while but I eventually switched to booting instead of insisting with the one-step-forward-slide-two-steps-back method. I threw a hissy fit when I noticed some asshole had borrowed my crampons and adjusted them for their midget boots without telling me. After freezing my fingers getting the adjustment screw off with the buckle of a Voile strap I realized the asshole also had the audacity to paint the crampons green and switch the brand from Petzl to CAMP. That made them look suspiciously like my wife’s crampons. Hum… People these days, hiding their crampons in your gear box correctly assuming you won’t check before tossing them in your pack. Anyway, I’m not adjusting them back so next time she uses them she’ll throw a fit and I'll have to adjust them on the fly again. Always punish yourself twice for your mistakes is a moto of mine.
More ridge walking with more mystery ranges in the background:
The summit is a wide and flat section of ridge with a subtle bump at 13,064’. That's 3982m for those of us who were raised in the metric system, frustratingly close to being 4000m (the threshold for badassness). Guess I'll have to drive to CA or CO for these. Anyway, I walked to the E end where things drop precipitously into the main cirque. Doso Doyabi, the next objective, is the main pyramid in the foreground. The tiny snow cone center-left in the pic is in the Deep Creek range, tomorrow's problem:
I didn’t want to get blown into UT and walked back past the non-descript summit and to the top of S face which sits at the head of another massive glacial cirque. Baker Peak is the badass craggy summit in the foreground. The beautiful pyramid to its left is, you guessed it, Pyramid Peak (with False Pyramid next to it because when you find a good name you stick with it). The small range on the far right is probably the Montezuma Range but there are so many in Nevada it’s hard to tell.
Anyway, the S face looked about ripe so I dropped in right off the summit. The upper 300’ were a bit firm (SW exposure) and funneled into a steep rollover walled by towers of decaying quartzite. I worked over skier’s right to get into the SE aspect which had softened nicely:
From there it was 1900’ of perfect corn between wet slide debris. I started a bit tentatively waiting for my hamstring to explode but after 5 turns forgot all about it and started the super-G turns. Between the snow quality and the surroundings I’m surprised I didn’t cream my pants…
I ate a bite in the cirque (the French cheese I brought tasted better than ever, sure wish I could have washed it down with a good beer but those 90 extra grams from the crampons made it impossible) and started the 2k slog back to the ridge between Wheeler and Doso Doyabi. The sun was blazing but the wind kept things from heating up too much, couldn’t get pinwheels to go even when throwing snowballs in the slope. The views were very distracting, the ramp-in-the-sky feature is the middle of cliff is just asking for it:
Last edited by Boissal; 05-09-2019 at 04:27 PM.
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04-30-2019, 03:18 PM #2
I hit the ridge and wandered along the edge of the cirque which is made of a succession of wedges terminating in huge cliffs with a whole bunch of appealing couloirs. Most seem like they would go, it’s just a matter of picking the right one because when they cliff out they do so in a very definitive manner…
I eventually topped out Doso Doyabi and peeked into its N face, my backup plan. It’s a 2000’ shot to the moraine. There’s an even longer one just to the E. I’ll be coming back to hit these earlier in the year but for now they would get me too far from the cirque…
Another summit shot just because the Wheeler pyramid looks so proud:
My way into the cirque, the 2000’ NW couloir. The Dorais bros & co. skied it a few years ago in extremely lean conditions, basically a shark-infested strip of snow. It was barely recognizable from their pictures and I was glad to find it filled to the gills.
Somehow I also made it on time for the corn harvest on this aspect. I guess dilly-dallying and taking hundreds of pictures eventually paid off. As on the S face my first few turns were tentative before I realized the snow was prime and let loose:
All the way into the gut of the cirque which has a small bit of actual glacier left and below that a rock glacier. Very impressive place:
The bristlecone grove is directly below the moraine; I headed down and wandered among the trees for over an hour. As corny as it sounds, it was a powerful experience to be out there solo on a perfect day in the midst of these ancient creatures. The colors are out of this world, there are no sounds other than the wind, and the tortured shapes of the trees loom over you in a very eerie manner. They seem to grow alone, rarely in clusters, and radiate a strange energy. I’m not spiritual in the least but I couldn’t pry myself from that place and its atmosphere. It wouldn’t be the same in the summer with a trail, signs, people, and no snow.
I tried to find the stump of Prometheus, the oldest known tree which was cut down in the 60s and found to be about 4900 years old, but couldn’t identify its still-standing very distinctive neighbor. In hindsight I would probably have hated seeing the stump and am content to have left knowing there is another elder tree in the area that is still alive and well at the ripe old age of 5065.
Vaya con Dios trees.
In the midst of my vision quest I ran out of water and decided to head down. I still had about 3k to go and knew the time to pay the piper was near. Things went well to about 9k when I failed to get on the N side of a subtle ridge and got stuck on a sunny slope. The bottomless glop I was fighting with quickly turned patchy:
Then disappeared altogether:
Instead of contouring through talus and thick brush I trashed my way down to the summer trail, put my skins back on, and backtracked about 15 minutes to get my shoes. I dunked myself in the creek to try to cool off and get my headache under control then hiked out, thankful for the breaks I got every time somebody stopped me to ask what I was doing with skis on my pack (hint: it involved a mountain, snow, and skiing). Looking sharp on the trail:
I made it back to the car in just over 10 hours for a total of 15 miles and 8000’ at a leisurely pace. So leisurely in fact that my watch felt the need to put me down:
Fuck you too watch!
I hung my stuff to dry all over the truck and neighboring trees and fell into the beer and chips & salsa.
After an hour of lounging and more amusing conversations with hikers everything was dry. Time go get back on the road, first Route 6 into UT:
Then dirt roads heading N through a bunch of remote communities, scaring wildlife as I went:
And eventually into Granite Creek canyon, home to what appears to be unlimited climbing potential on vile kitty-litter choss, and also the gateway to Ibapah:
First problem: the snow line appeared to be quite a bit higher than expected from the SNOTEL data at the S end of the range. Almost 9k from what I could see, meaning more dirt walking than planned.
Second problem: the road was gated at 6500’ until Memorial Day, something I wasn’t aware off. All the reports I had seen started things around 7k which is another mile or so up the road. Even more dirt walking than planned.
Third problem: there was a creek 10’ past the gate and after hiking 20 minutes up canyon on a faint trail I couldn’t find a decent log to cross on. Looks like I would be starting things off with a foot bath:
There was also a truck parked at the gate with a bunch of winter gear. Other skiers? I hung around for a bit hoping to gather beta then realized they were probably going to spend the night there (it was already 8pm). I didn’t want to crowd them so I drove back down the road a bit, set up camp, and ate dinner while staring at Ibapah way off in the distance:
The road beers + gummies + the day’s effort finally caught up with me and by 9PM I was passed out. The alarm went off at 4:00 (the forecast called for a warmer day and I was shooting for the SE face) and I woke up to a super windy and ridiculously warm day. Things weren’t looking good for a refreeze and I was feeling pretty stiff but I figured I’d take the skis for a walk and have a look around. I hiked 5 minutes up the road instead of driving to the gate and waking up the other group but they had left during the night. No beta for me I guess... Oh well, what were they going to tell me anyway? Follow the trail until it ends then bushwack to the top and ski back down? I can figure that out on my own, thank you very much...
Those would turn out to be famous last words. In the meantime I took my shoes off and crossed the creek which was much deeper than expected (of course):
… then started slogging up the sandy road. Eventually it got light enough that I could see the numerous N facing bowls of Red Mountain which looked good but less filled-in than expected.
The numerous creek crossings and dead-fall kept me busy:
Last edited by Boissal; 05-09-2019 at 04:33 PM.
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04-30-2019, 03:18 PM #3
After gaining about 2000’ over 3.5 miles there was just enough patchy snow that my feet were soaked but nowhere near enough to skin. Things had cooled off nicely but I was annoyed at the amount of circuitous dirt walking and slow pace. My original plan of leaving the summer trail around 8.5k and skinning directly up a S facing rib to the summit was quickly scrapped when I got a view of rib and realized the fucker was snow-free to about 11k… I had no interest in following the regular trail which adds about 3 miles to an already annoyingly long walk. There’s low angle terrain between these 2 options but it was out of sight and I was not positive it would be skinnable.
I sat on my ass for a bit weighing my options then decided to bushwhack across a couple of creeks to get to the hopefully filled-in toe of the SE couloir. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about spending time below the huge S face but the cloud cover was holding strong, the winds was cold, and there was no green-housing to speak of. I immediately found tracks from the previous party which made me feel better about my decision. Had I paid attention I’d have realized they were exit tracks and they hadn’t gone up that way, probably just came out at the end of the day… I pulled the plug after 45 minutes of using whippets as machetes, screaming obscenities at the brush I was tangled into, climbing 60-degrees dirt slopes, and generally hating life. I had gained only 380’ of elevation and was getting nowhere. The “meadow” I was aiming for was slightly less brushy but still snow free and I had at least another 800’ to go to get to the couloir. I could see some granite buttresses guarding the entrance which would most likely involve soloing 5.8 on ball-bearing granite.
Fuck this shit, I’m out, I’ll come back with napalm, burn this place to the ground then sow the soil with salt so no brush will ever grow again.
It took me another couple of minutes to run out of curse words in every language I know, look up, and notice how juicy the NE face of Red Mountain looked. I decided then and there that I had always meant to ski it instead of Ibapah which isn’t even that cool anyway...
Things improved considerably from that point. It took me 30 minutes to extract myself from the creek beds but I barely lost any elevation and finally found consistent snow on E facing slopes. The clouds cleared and I had a pleasant stroll in the shade of the trees for 1500’ or so, forgetting all about the previous hour. The NE shots were looking better and better but were heating up fast:
I eventually picked a rib coming off the summit and headed up. The first half was good skinning on firm snow with great views of the range and the W Desert. I was psyched!
Once I got above tree line though things firmed up enough that I had to switch to booting. The last 1000’ were properly heinous with a choice between non-supportable crust or loose talus.
I stuck to the snow for a bit but the variability was soul-crushing. I was punching through all the way to my crotch and got worried about re-injuring my leg. I eventually settled for the talus which sucks exactly as bad in the winter as it does with a huge climbing pack in the summer. By that time the wind had picked back up, the clouds had returned, I had all my layers on and could only see 5’ in front of me. It was just an exercise in patience. I topped out and everything magically calmed down and cleared up. Guess Ullr finally took pity on me and threw me a bone.
Hello there couloir, what’s your name?
Hello there N face, how about I shred you?
As usual the first few turns were a bit firm then 300’ down the gut I found perfect corn which I followed all the way to the flats. It was definitely worth sticking with this one despite the shenanigans of earlier in the day. I even managed to find my shoes without having to skin back up! All good things come to an end though:
Funny how this kind of deadfall doesn’t even register in the AM when you’re psyched but once you’re beat to shit on the way down it feels like torture:
I made it back to the car in 8 hours for a total of 12 miles and barely 6000’ of vert, a glacial pace attributed partially to my aimless wandering in the brush and partially to the amount of time I spent taking picture of all the granite lining up the canyon.
After pounding a couple of beers and spilling a quart of salsa on myself I jumped in the creek, dried out, packed my stuff, and drove out of the canyon. I wanted to check out a couple of other hot springs in and around the Fish Springs National Wildlife Refuge in the middle of the state and continued on my merry dirt road way. Bye Deep Creeks, I’ll be back, don’t think Ibapah isn’t gonna get it at some point!!
Hot spring #4 turned out to be legit, it looked straight out of Yellowstone. The periphery was already very hot so I imagine the pool itself is only good to boil crab. I didn’t feel like playing the pallet-hoping game and punching through to get a 3rd degree burn so I looked but didn’t touch.
Hot spring #5 is basically a small lake and has probably seen several drownings which resulted in its fencing off. It was warmish, better left to the enjoyment of migratory birds. The mud in the area was unbelievably sticky, my beloved is going to love the state of the truck when she gets it back. Should have dragged her crampons in there too for good measure…
I drove through the refuge and continued on the Pony Express National Historic Trail, checking out a couple of the stations along the way. Eventually I got close to Granite Mountain and the boundary of the Dugway Proving Grounds. I had my doubts about driving through but couldn’t find any info on their website about access restrictions. I should have called them directly and checked though because this is exactly the sign you don’t want to see when you’re out in the middle of the far corner of nowhere:
The trucks’ GPS came up with an alternate route to Dugway via an intricate network of dirt roads, some decent, some that can only qualify as having been driven that one time back in the day but somehow ended up on a map. I was gripped a good bit of the time and had to drain the cooler of its remaining beers to make it out of there. There were wild horses everywhere, apparently they're over-breeding and since they're very protected their population is exploding, creating all kinds of issues.
I eventually made it back to civilization and pavement (surprise surprise, the first building I saw was a LDS church) and zoomed home. One last shot of the W side of the Stansbury Mountains for good measure, looks like plenty of intriguing options. Guess it’s now on the ever-expanding list of weird places to check out on skis:
Last edited by Boissal; 05-01-2019 at 03:26 PM.
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04-30-2019, 03:44 PM #4Registered User
- Join Date
- Jan 2006
- Posts
- 407
cool trip report. thx for the share.
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04-30-2019, 03:47 PM #5
Damn, had no idea you did that solo! Well fucking done... I have to make it to GBNP with skis sometime, that looks unworldly. Awesome writeup too!!
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04-30-2019, 03:54 PM #6Registered User
- Join Date
- Aug 2007
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- United States of Aburdistan
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- 7,281
Very, very nice, I was thinking of skiing Wheeler this spring but can't find time to get out there. I've only been there in the fall. Almost hiked to Wheeler but a storm kept us back. Trees are so cool there!
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04-30-2019, 04:18 PM #7
Solid solo mission. Thanks for sharing.
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04-30-2019, 04:23 PM #8
Very cool country.
www.skevikskis.com Check em out!
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04-30-2019, 05:01 PM #9
Thanks guys, it was a grand old time. There's something about the W desert that is very conducive to solo missions. I spend a lot of time there in the fall climbing and developing routes too, the emptiness draws me in. I can be a bit unnerving but I had done a ton of homework and knew what I was getting myself into. Kind of.
I only asked 2 people. One was on his way to Peru and the other was talking about doing some 14k day in the Wasatch. I thought 2 days in the desert would hurt less
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04-30-2019, 05:07 PM #10
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04-30-2019, 08:10 PM #11
dude that looks awesome. Nice write up!
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04-30-2019, 09:29 PM #12
Top notch, good work.
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04-30-2019, 09:56 PM #13
Adventure defined. Strong work!
Bunny Don't Surf
Have you seen a one armed man around here?
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04-30-2019, 10:32 PM #14
Awesome!
www.apriliaforum.com
"If the road You followed brought you to this,of what use was the road"?
"I have no idea what I am talking about but would be happy to share my biased opinions as fact on the matter. "
Ottime
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05-01-2019, 12:04 AM #15
nice work getting Wheeler
off your knees Louie
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05-01-2019, 06:23 AM #16
Nice TR. I need to buy at least one Bristlecone Pine for my new house.
“How does it feel to be the greatest guitarist in the world? I don’t know, go ask Rory Gallagher”. — Jimi Hendrix
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05-01-2019, 07:19 AM #17
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05-01-2019, 08:03 AM #18
awesome. good stuff!
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05-01-2019, 08:51 AM #19
Epic!
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05-01-2019, 09:08 AM #20
TR – Desert corn, NV/UT 2019 harvest
Thx for the write up — it doesn’t have to be exotic to be a proper adventure
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05-01-2019, 09:45 AM #21
Very cool. I’m non-religious as well, and I couldn’t leave the bristlecones either. Weird.
Well maybe I'm the faggot America
I'm not a part of a redneck agenda
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05-01-2019, 10:49 AM #22
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05-01-2019, 11:00 AM #23
Agreed x1000. I absolutely don't understand how anyone could experience something profound while crammed in a small building surrounded by carbon copies of themselves being harangued by an old white dude. Even if the building is grandiose it still doesn't make sense to me. Sure, stepping into St Peter's basilica is awe inspiring. But it's because the building itself is beautiful and ancient, not because it's imbued with any sort of meaning. It's a very ornate man-made stack of 500 year-old bricks, nothing else. Organized religion requires a superhuman amount of suspension of disbelief and what basically amounts to self hypnosis to get anywhere close to a strong spiritual experience.
Standing at the base of a 1000' rock wall, on top of a 2000' open slope, or below a 5000 year-old tree who had already lived 100 human lifetimes by the time Jeebus may or may not have been born, now that tickles my sense of the sublime. There's something very tangible there that the hypothetical bearded man in the sky just can't compete with.
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05-01-2019, 11:17 AM #24Well maybe I'm the faggot America
I'm not a part of a redneck agenda
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05-01-2019, 04:23 PM #25
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