Happy Father's Day, I'm going skiing!

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Is that weird feeling I'm feeling what they call "guilt"?
Saturday I spent the entire day doing the chores I've been neglecting for the last... uh... while. You know -- laundry, dishes, vacuuming, making the place liveable. It felt horrible to be trapped indoors all day. Surely there were chutes of snow to be explored, fields of white to be carved, acres of corn ripe for harvest. Right? Did I shun my patriotic duty as a consumer of gasoline just to stay home and wash underwear? Worse, I had to ask the "bottom line" question -- would I lay on my deathbed one day and say a) I wish I'd worn clean underwear more often or b) I wish I'd skied more days? YOU might reply that my answer should be a. Especially if you're my officemate (sorry Wendy). Alas, at 8 pm on Saturday night I caved to that sweet seduction whose name is "snow" and did the equivalent of going to a bar to find a man -- I got on the internet and started looking for Sunday skiing outings I could join.
"Pick me, pick me!"
Unlike the meat market, my odds are good in the ski market. By 9:30 my skis were packed, my soles re-glued on my boots, and my alarm was set. Destination: Rainier. Found a willing soul headed for Sourdough Chutes up at Mt. Rainier and (obviously because he's not met me and doesn't know about the underwear situation) he was willing to let me tag along! Love it when spontaneity pans out!
One little, two little, three little telemarkers
The drive up Chinook Pass was absolutely incredible. The American River is full of friendly-looking play waves and splashy little rapids. What a beautiful area. As the road climbs, the river becomes more and more creek-like -- banked by evergreens and ferns, choked with moss-covered logs and boulders. The forest becomes more dense, and the next thing you know you are driving past 12' banks of snow. YAY!
The weather, however, became less and less enticing. As I approached the turnoff for White River, well, visibility was horrid, it was raining hard, and cold. Yuck. But, since i was just going to be out for the day, I figured I'd just suck it up and ski it. Getting wet is not the end of the world.
For my persistence, I was rewarded at the Sunshine Point parking lot with mostly decent and dry weather. The clouds I'd just driven through floated in the valley below, but in the parking lot, things were, at worst, overcast.
I waited for my leader, Ron. He showed up right on time. On his tail and totally unexpectedly, came Darryl. About 45 minutes into our trek, Chris appeared... then Mike and Brenda... and Joe... and who am i forgetting? There was a whole flock of us by the end of the day.
"I always scream when I ski"
Good grief, did I really say that? Ron and Darryl looked at me skeptically. We were hiking up Dege peak. We had an easy hike one firm snow. We got to the peak, and then scrambled back down a little bit to some snow for Round 1 of Chutefest.
"You know, the first rule of backcountry is that the chick skis first" I announced. And this is what always gets me in trouble -- i keep forgetting that you are not supposed to be a smart-ass with strangers in the wilderness. There is really nothing keeping them from chopping you up in tiny pieces and scattering your remains in a creek-bed somewhere. Fortunately, neither Ron nor Darryl had any chopping implements and let me survive another day. Ron skied first and then took pictures. I screamed (literally) down, and Darryl followed. Nice snow, a bit heavy, but delicious, and we weren't even out of view of the parking lot.
Ron rewarded our efforts by offering a flask of some sort of decadence he calls "party in your mouth" of which I have no comments. That's all i can say about THAT.
Fear Factor
By the time we booted up another chute to the ridgeline, the rest of the crew started arriving on the scene. Our little tele-tribe expanded to 7 and we trudged past Dege peak and Antler toward "Fear Factor". Joe and Chris were the obvious trailblazers in the group -- the types to ski anything, and then kick your ass on the uphill. Ron and Darryl are content to cruise along at more humanly paces, and Mike and Brenda were on the same humanly/conservative agenda. I wanted to follow Joe and Chris, which ranks right up there with that time I stupidly told my ski instructor that I wanted to be a more aggressive skier. Joe and Chris wanted to ski this one little chute and then hike back out and catch up to Ron and Darryl, who were going to Fear Factor. I didn't think i could keep up with Joe and Chris. But, i did think I could ski the chute, follow their tracks back up, and find Ron and Darryl perhaps at the bottom of Fear Factor. My Fear Factor was that my lungs would implode.
Remember how I've been working on that "TWA Flight 800" move of mine?
You know the one, where I explode mid-air? Yes well, i'd hate to miss an opportunity to perfect THAT bit of acrobatics... I followed after Joe and Chris. We had a nice chute, it was quite wide and easy. The snow was getting heavier and sticky. I got about half-way down, doing my little crazy-legged salsa dance, and launched (quite unexpectedly) into TWA Flight 800. If there's anything worse than having your lungs implode in front of a couple of hardcore backcountry skiers, it'd have to be augering into the slopes while they wait at the bottom. And then trying to get up and your legs are literally tangled. And your hat and glasses are uphill from you... quite a bit... and you think you pulled some ligaments you didn't know you had... and you don't think they have the good sense to politely look away... So, I'm doing really well on all airborne aspects of the TWA Flight 800 move, but the landings still need work. I collected my stuff and skied down.
Mike and Brenda then came down, laying some beautiful tracks behind them. <random tangent> Mike is originally from Roseburg, and he and Brenda spend some time down there every year with his folks and go skiing! Small world? yup! Mike's parents even live out toward my brother's and my little farm out there. </random tangent>
Chris and I skinned back up the hill, and Joe didn't have skins so he booted straight up. I don't think either of them stopped once. We hiked onward.
Rainier Rewards Us
As we hiked along the ridge, the sun shone on Rainier as low clouds swirled around it, sometimes hiding it from the sun, other times breaking away so you could see every crevasse on it. My god Rainier is beautiful all covered in snow. Who couldn't love a mountain? Is there anything more dramatic in the world than glaciers clinging to the jagged slopes of a volcano? I think at times that the spires of cathedrals and towering skyscrapers are man's feeble attempt at making mountains where there are none. The New York skyline, when viewed from the Staten Island Ferry on a full-moon night, is breathtaking... but it has nothing on a diamond-studded peak on a plain ol' day in June.
Dude
As a side-note, during all hiking, especially the hiking that required breathing, Joe and Chris talked the entire time. No kidding. These guys were probably born at high altitude. They are just chatting away like a couple of 7th grade girls (except not all giggly and stuff) as I was wheezing along. I want to follow guys like that more often. If the exertion and lack of oxygen doesn't kill me, imagine the shape I'd be in!
And now back to skiing
So, we get to another chute. There's a reason they call it chute-fest, okay? so, this one starts with a scree field. I mean, you have to shimmy down this scree field. And then the snow starts, but it's a kinda tight chute from what you can see, and then it opens up. Joe and Chris are, of course, going to ski this. Not the scree, but everything else. Oh man i wanted to really bad. But the hike out looked long, and i didn't know where Darryl and Ron were, and I kinda needed to get going as I was running late to go see a friend of mine who I'd told I'd stop in and visit. Oh, and I mighta been a teensy bit scared of getting down it in one piece. Steeps don't scare me, but rocks sure do. Off they went. Mike arrived as they were going down the scree field, and he opted to ski with them. I decided to ski down the other side to the car and wait, since I was the shuttle vehicle, thinking Ron and Darryl would probably be on their way down soon. Brenda waited at the top.
Wait a minute? What's this?
I followed the ridge, trudging along at my non-Joe or Chris pace. (I'm making this worse than it sounds, really.) to my right, down in the valley, I counted... one.... two... three... four??? five?? five skiers? Hey!! Darryl and Ron were down there!! Well, shoot, i might as well ski down there and hike back out with them! So, off I went down a nice mellow snow field and down to the group. Shortly after, Brenda followed. Reunited, we all began the trudge back uphill.
"Just follow me!"
Customarily, I don't follow the advice of any man from Roseburg, Oregon except for Grampa Steve. So, when Mike said, 'just follow me down to the parking lot', i was more than a bit skeptical. Everyone else followed him down.... I waited for the "oh shit" moment or the "uh oh" from someone, but heard nothing. Joe opted for a different line (perhaps based on his own experience with Roseburg folk)... and shortly after we heard, "yeah, don't follow me" from him. So against my better judgement, I followed Mike and the rest of the crew. Of course, he picked a great line that had good snow coverage all the way down to the car! Yay Mike! And then we were greeted by a ranger with a megaphone who yelled at us for skiing there. Well, he was a nice guy, just told us the rules, and I have to say I did feel bad for being a bad steward of the environment (or would that be stewardess?).
Good Bye
What a super group of people. So friendly. Ron was especially nice to take me along on such short notice and questionable skills. Everyone was really just a blast to be with. And of course Rainier was absolutely beautiful. It was a special trip, being able to hike so easily from the car and bomb around in some great stuff with such easy access. Thanks, everybody.