High Pressure Pow

One week out until a bunch of our office heads up to BC for a week of hut touring and shooting photos. VMT guide and Karhu athlete Evan Stevens sent us this update to start off the week, with more snow starting to fly just in time:

Well, the high and dry has set in up north in British Columbia, which means it has been dumping down south. I don’t mind so much, because it means its time to get back into the alpine and ski the BIG lines in more stable snow. When things set up right, you can really tuck your way up into the mountains inhospitable nooks and crannies, and do some amazing skiing.

Here is a video from last week of me and a bunch of skiers from the Reno area…enjoy!

Powder in the Sierra

A quick post with a little teaser of the new snow that hit the Sierra Nevada in the past week...

I was lucky enough to join Karhu rep Justin Singer and a group of California and Nevada Karhu retailers for a day of cat skiing with Pacific Crest Snowcats yesterday. After a week-long storm, the skis cleared up, and we enjoyed a full day of fresh turns on cold north-facing slopes. Glad I brought the Team 130s... it was deep! Here's a quick tease, more video to come:


Karhu - Powder day in Tahoe from Graham Gephart was shot with a VholdR helmet cam.

Another Adventure Ski

Another weekend, another adventure. We finally broke out of the corn cycle in the PNW last week, but not by much. A mid-week storm left 6-10” of new snow across the Cascades, mostly at the upper elevations. Without the dedication to drive a couple hours south to Rainier or north to Baker, we set out to find what we could locally. Saturday backcountry from the resort gave us some beta on aspects and elevations, and on Sunday we headed off to a new zone looking for the goods.

The trailhead started us low, and we knew we’d be in for hiking for a while. The snowshoe trail took us back up a river valley, making good time in spite of slippery hiking and multiple stream crossings. Doubts grew, as we knew that eventually we’d have to bushwhack off the trail up to the ridge above us, an uninviting prospect with firm snow and thick trees. After gaining some ground up a few switchbacks, we finally found a stand of old growth that might allow access to the ridge.


(No new snow down here, Lulu Bael and Chris Barchet start to go up. Photos by Graham Gephart.)

One foot after the other, we set our bootpack. Firm snow slowly softened to a thinner crust with a dusting on top, and the steps became easier. The forest thinned and eventually the sky became visible ahead, as we burst out of the trees just below the ridge. After a long morning and a stop for lunch, we were finally able to put our skis on for skinning.


(Breaking out of the trees, looking back at last week's ski on Granite Peak.)

Wind had hammered up high the night before, leaving a variable pack from a few inches of hard slab to mid-shin drifts. We covered ground up the ridge quickly on skins, getting a read for the new terrain, and trying to evaluate the snow around us. East-facing chutes looked enticing above the bowl, but an initial pit changed our plans to ascending a west-facing line of trees instead. Getting near the top, thick fog beset our skin track, and our minds could only imagine much of our new surroundings.


(Tempting-looking chutes on the east-facing ridge, but too much wind.)


(Lulu and Chris skinning up in the fog and rime.)

The topo placed us on a high shoulder two-hundred feet from the true summit, but with nothing visible directly in front of us, it was clear that our climbing had come to an end. We’d scouted some routes down while climbing, and we’d positioned ourselves well over a diagonal chute that held good snow.


(There's a summit out there somewhere.)

After nearly 6 weeks since the last powder in the Cascades, the first turns felt great. The heavy, wind-blown snow held the perfect consistency down the double-fall line of the diagonal, with thin breaks of trees holding deep drifts.


(Lulu looking down the diagonal.)

Before bottoming out the basin, we traversed back out to the ridge. We hit our ascent track nearly perfectly, and looked back on our line with some pride and amazement. We’d found our way up to someplace new, changed our plans after evaluating the stability, navigated the zone cleanly in tough visibility, and found some great turns along the way.


(Finally, Lulu gets some fresh powder turns.)

There was still more descent to come, a fast dust-on-crust ski through the old growth that returned us to the hiking trail. We tried skiing out the luge run, but too many stream crossings and teeth chattered loose from the tree-littered, frozen hardpack kept us from getting all the way out on skis as we had the week before. Skis back on our packs, we walked the final stretch back to the cars with tired legs and big smiles.


(Fast tracks out the luge run.)

Ski What You Climb

When the long days of spring hit, eventually the unbalanced tour becomes inevitable. High snowlines force long approaches, and suddenly half the descent moves to foot instead of ski. A reality of spring, yes, but not one that I was mentally prepared for in early February in the PNW.

Nonetheless, on Saturday we found ourselves looking at the likely end of a beautiful-looking line only halfway between the peak and the car. The open corn gullies on Granite Peak towering above us dwindled into an alder-choked abyss with open waterfalls. It looked like we’d be bootpacking 4000’ feet up, and skiing only 2000’ back down. But the weather was nice, and we were desperate for good turns in the midst of the northwest’s dryspell.


(Lulu Bael, Elizabeth Lozner, and Charlie Lozner geared up for the climb. Photos by Graham Gephart.)

We headed out the hiking trail on foot, leaving our skins in the car. The hiking trail alternated between dirt and snow, but off to the sides the snow offered a hint of promise. It was thin, dimpled like a golf ball, covered with a layer of evergreen branches and needles, and threaded with cascading streams, but the ground cover sparked the thought that perhaps it would be linkable all the way out to the car. The challenge was on.

The warming air turned to hot sun as we cleared the gully into the alpine two-thirds of the way up, sweat pouring off down our backs with each step on the bootpack... up and up to the top, the highway fading far into the distance below.


(Charlie and Elizabeth climbing to the sun.)


(Looking south to Rainier, the road far, far below.)

From the summit, the day rang clear blue, with visibility from Mount Baker to the north all the way to Adams in the south, and the Olympics rising above Seattle’s persistent fog to the West. The full month’s consolidation of snow had softened perfectly, that smooth, soft thin surface corn that allows precision hero turns. After several spring jaunts in knee-deep schmoo, February would turn out to offer the best corn skiing I’ve had in Washington yet. Make do with what ya got, I guess.


(The view over to Snoqualmie Pass.)


(Karhu's Charlie Lozner enjoying the corn.)


(Lulu Bael loving life, a long way still to go.)

Descending far down the gully, the smiles never faded even as the brush closed in. The challenge was on, and pulling every adventure skiing move out of the bag – the forearm brush block, quick wheeling pivot turns, exstream skiing, short dirt hops, hooking trees to turn or stop.


(Then, things got thick.)


(Lulu Bael, exstream skier.)


(Graham on an imposing, rocky stream crossing. Photo by Charlie Lozner.)

The descent eventually slowed to a crawl as we crossed the last obstacle, picking our way through a snowy marsh beset with massive deadfall. But one last tree to cross, and we skied out right to the bumper of the car. It may have been a spring approach and skiing in February, but we still managed to keep our skis on for a full descent that matched our climb. All in all, a great day in the mountains.

-Graham Gephart


(Lulu skis it out to the end.)

New England Deep

Two photos for Monday stoke from WhereWillYouSki.com reader Peter Wadsworth…

The 2008 Christmas Eve melt-out is well forgotten now in New England. It’s been cold, brutally at times, and snowing for several weeks straight. As the creeks and stream beds have firmed up and the Mt Mansfield snow stake has crept up over 70” we’ve been trying to hit some of the backcountry lines that are only open for a short time every year. This particular day was an 8+ hour tour that yielded tons of steep and deep turns, finishing by headlamp well after dark.

(Jessie Willow-Janowski puts in the work. Photo by Peter Wadsworth)


(Jessie Willow-Janowski reaping the rewards. Photo by Peter Wadsworth)

High Pressure, High Routes

Our recent trip to Salt Lake City for Outdoor Retailer gave us a good chance to catch up with many of the Karhu athletes and ambassadors near and far, chatting about upcoming plans, getting out for some skiing, gathering product feedback, brainstorming on new ideas, and much more. We had to split to Vegas for the SIA show immediately after, but a few of the crew hung out in the Wasatch for more skiing. The storms have long passed, but Evan Stevens stayed on and took advantage of the recent high pressure to tackle some Utah classics:

All of you VMT devotees...I am in Utah right now, so some trip reports from down there. The word at VMT though is snow, and more snow. Probably close to a meter in the last week, with Dale telling me that there was close to 30cm of new snow this morning and more on the way.

Some folks in Salt Lake City see the high pressure on the weather map, hold their breath and hang up their skis. Others like Andrew McLean charge 10 in 10 days, or myself, I try and get after some longer higher tours that I haven't done in a while, especially since I live in British Columbia these days! Back home in BC, the storms are rolling in, with lots of weak layers being preserved by the more northerly colder temper regime (I am snow geeking out here!). But part of the beauty of the high desert is the strong high pressures and rapid stabilization of the snowpack in these warmer temperatures.

Blah blah blah. You can log on to the Utah Avalanche Center website, and see for yourself, the decreasing avalanche danger. Not that it is fully greenlight out there right now (is it ever?), but things are pretty good and I am slowly building my confidence in the snowpack here and ramping up some tours in some bigger areas.

Sunday we started off with a tour from Big Cottonwood Canyon to Mill Creek via Reynolds Peak, the Wilson Chutes and Gobbler's Knob. Lots of ridge walking in the sun, and great settled, soft and consistent powder on the north facing shots. With a car stashed in Mill Creek, we got to ski out over 4,000' down the NW side of Gobbler's in amazing snow as well. I'll let the Google Earth image and the photos do the rest of the talking.

Google Earth image with our tour drawn in

Walking along Gobbler's Knob Summit Ridge

Richard drops into the Wilson Chutes

Looking 4,500' down the last run of the day to Porter Fork!

Today (Monday) we decided to tackle the crown jewel of the Wasatch, Mt. Superior, with some skiing in Cardiac Bowl and a long and beautiful ski out Mineral Fork. We went for the long ascent of the East Ridge of Superior for the added ski mountaineering aspect of the day and summit climb. Once again some great north facing settled powder and some billy goating on ridges and entrances so we can sneak into Mineral Basin where hardly anyone had been. Maps and photos will give you the full picture instead of my babbling...


The East Ridge of Superior. Classic.

Hiking up the East Ridge.

Dreamy and creamy turns down from the Summit of Superior.


Poking around to find the entrance into Mineral Fork


Mineral Fork void of tracks

Get out there and enjoy it while you can, I have 4 more days until I head back up to the land of snow (Canada). The weather forecast says at least 2 more days of high pressure here in Salt Lake though... hmmmm.

Getting Deep at VMT

Storm season is in full force, and the interior of BC continues to do well. Karhu ambassador Evan Stevens keeps sending us reports to drool over, and we’re getting excited for a trip up there in March. Here’s the latest from Evan:

It might sound like a joke, but lately the snow has been coming in by the foot, not by inches. The storm hose is pointed right on British Columbia, and the cold smoke just keeps piling up at Valhalla Mountain Touring. We are in full swing here, with the 3rd straight week of operations, and this week has a bunch of friends from UT and CO up here to ski the pow. But instead of ranting and raving, and storytelling, I will let the pictures from the last 2 days do the talking.Get up here! We still have some spaces for this winter! All photos by backcountry.com's Tommy Chandler.


(Me checking out the snow as the season starts, keeping it safe.)


(Jasmin testing out the snow on yet another storm day.)


(Lindsay Yaw asks for the snorkel.)


(Me trying to get above the snow, but that is hard to do right now!)


(Jonn Webb taste-testing the snow.)

Loving Old Man Winter

Big snows across the country this week. Seattle has been snowbound for the past week, and skis have been better than cars for getting around town. On the other side of the country, it will be a deep white Christmas in the Northeast this year. Brian Mohr checks in after a winter solstice ski:
He makes us shiver. He makes us sweat. He also brings incredible joy to our lives...

Welcome back Old Man Winter.

We love you.

Brian and Emily
Moretown, VT

(Skiers: Andy Weis, Dylan Crossman, Emily Johnson - Mad River Valley, Vermont - Winter Solstice 2008)

Cold, Cold Smoke

Things keep getting better up in the Valhallas, where Karhu ambassador Evan Stevens is trying to stay warm in BC.

The arctic air mass has taken over British Columbia. I know what you're thinking. It's Canada, you all live in igloos and it is cold all the time. But alas, no, SW BC is actually quite mild in the winter, and that is what makes skiing here so great-it's not frigidly cold! Right now it is so, so, so bitterly cold here that we can't even really ski on shady slopes. The snow is so cold that your wax just doesn't work.

It has made for some interesting plan changes for me this week. Originally I was supposed to be skiing in Roger's Pass. We did two days there, and it was literally some of the coldest outdoor recreation I have ever taken part in. We skinned up to treeline one day, only to be met by 25km/hr winds at -24 degrees Celsius. For you math majors out there, that equals a -40 degree Celsius wind chill (and -40 is where Fahrenheit and Celsius are the same!). This arctic front also brought with it heinously strong winds, jacking all the snow at treeline and in the alpine.

We decided to pull the plug and head a bit south to the family's lodge in the Valhallas. A bit of protection from the wind and slightly warmer temps tempted us and Valhalla Mountain Touring has delivered yet again. We have just spent the last 2 days tracking out the cold powder, first a bit in the trees, and then today in the blazing sun. I gotta tell ya, it might be freezing cold out, but that is the bet time ever to ski the pow in full sun, the snow just stays as cold smoke all day long!

So, a video here to keep you psyched, and some photos from today as well...





(Benny and Jas racing for freshies. Photos by Evan Stevens.)



(Richard heading towards sunny powder on Rugged Peak.)



(My Karhu Storms getting psyched for 2 grand of cold smoke.)



(Richard steals some of Benny's powder.)

First Tour in the PNW

Rain was still falling in the pre-dawn darkness on Saturday morning, but the chill in the air confirmed what we’d seen on the mountain telemetry data. The arctic system that blew in on Friday packed a punch, leaving 18” of snow down to mid-elevations and bringing a much-needed start to winter in the Pacific Northwest.

Crystal opened the lifts to the south, but we gathered the troops and swung north to follow the heaviest part of the storm. With little existing base, we headed to the closed Stevens Pass ski area, with the hopes of a tune-up tour and some powder without too much damage.

(Karhu Brand Director Charlie Lozner checks out the liftline on the backside. Photos by Graham Gephart.)

We certainly weren’t the only ones with the idea, but there was enough snow to go around. Winter suddenly felt very real again, and I realized how much I’d missed the patter of snowflakes falling on my steaming head and shoulders while skinning. From the top, we skied a couple laps, the muscles coming back into the groove more and more each time.

(Bruce Jahnke from the test lab crosses a water hazard.)

(Development engineer Chris Barchet goes exstream skiing.)

The lack of base meant enough hazards – rocks, down logs, open water – to break up any real long flow of turns. But there was enough to link a few together, and we even found one little pillowy section that teased at the goods to come.

(Elizabeth Lozner makes short work of the pillows.)

By the time we climbed up for our third lap, the snow picked up again with urgency. In no time flat, we were all climbing with shoulders covered in a solid inch, and a light puff emerged from under step as the skis slid forward on the skintrack. All in all, a great warm up to start the season, and looking forward to more to come.

(Chris leads back up for more turns.)

(Acculumation on the skintrack up, can't wait for more.)

K2 Tall Mountain – Mixed Emotions

This morning we have a pretty special post from Dave Watson, who spent his summer climbing and skiing abroad in the high mountains of Pakistan. Dave’s K2 Tall Mountain Expedition was covered on the blog throughout the summer, with weekly and sometimes daily reports on the conditions, their adventures on Broad Peak and K2, and general life on a mountaineering expedition. They faced challenging weather, conditions and watched emergencies unravel firsthand. While Dave’s group was preparing to move from Broad Peak to make an attempt on K2, tragedy struck several climbing parties high up on the K2. The K2 Tall Mountain team assisted where they could, and stayed on an empty mountain afterward, hoping for improving conditions that never arose before making the decision to hike out. Dave sent over this entry a couple weeks back, after his return to the States had allowed some reflection on the ever-changing balance of risk and reward as we pursue adventure.

As I start to gather my ski gear and take inventory of what I need for the upcoming winter in the Himalaya, I think back to last winter in Kashmir and the past summer in Pakistan. I feel incredibly fortunate to have spent 6 months of the last year in the Pir Panjal and Karakoram ranges of the Himalaya. And now, 5 weeks away from another 3 month adventure in Kashmir, I can't help but think of how these trips are affecting my life, especially my marriage.

Shane McConkey and Jeremy Jones joke about the Gone Husband Award. They keep track of how many days they are away from their families and my days away equal more than both of theirs combined. Not proud of it, in fact I think it's really lame, leaving my wife to take care of the house, yard, bills, vehicles, food shopping, loneliness, happiness, horniness. She is incredibly supportive and also incredibly busy, working over 100 hours a week. It is so unfair of me to put this on her, to leave yet again. I feel like such a douche. But the mountains, especially the Himalaya, keep calling me back. Is this addiction? The desire to do things in excess, especially when they are potentially harmful to you. The feelings I get in the high mountains are as nourishing as the love of family and friends, feelings so strong they can not be put into words.

(Broad Peak basecamp, K2 in the background. Photo by Dave Watson.)

It used to be that when I got back from a trip I would feel recharged and ready to jump back into the rat race once again. The feelings of renewed motivation and change of perspective have waned over the years and now it is hard to find the motivation to compete even the simple tasks of the western lifestyle. Scrubbing the tub seems so lame as I daydream about skiing breakable crust at 25,000 ft in no-fall terrain or trying to clip into Dynafit bindings while hanging off of an ice screw on a 70 degree slope.


(Dave Watson takes XCD Guides over 20,000 feet on Broad Peak. Photo by Chuck Boyd.)

These expeditions let me experience and explore nature and the human psyche in ways only found in survival situations. As I am not-so-slowly finding out, these incredibly intense situations are becoming the most satisfying moments in my life. I am not a gambler in the traditional sense, and I do have fear, but to be breaking trail at 28,500 ft with the world below gives exhilaration beyond words.

These moments can also have incredible consequences. This past summer on K2, 11 men never went home, and their wives, children, parents and friends must some how come to terms with how a person that they loved had put their own "selfish" desires above the responsibilities and obligations of being an active participant in a life that they themselves had built. Death is a very real possibility when recreating in alpine terrain, it isn't fair that something that gives me so much joy and a feeling of purpose (which is ridiculous) could cause the people I love the most to lay awake at night in fear and worry that I may not come home. If those fears are realized, lives are changed forever.

(Sunrise on K2. Photo by Dave Watson.)

It isn't only those who are left at home who are affected by the loss, witnessing your partners death will have the same outcome. I met an awesome couple this summer, same age as me and my wife, married the day after we were, many common friends and interests. They were climbing K2 together, and he'll never be seen again. I could hardly look her in the eyes, overwhelmed with incredible sadness. I couldn't help but see Audrey's face with same expression of shock and pain, eyes red and rocked to the core. Since then, I've had many nights alone in a tent, thinking about why and how I should change my life, but when I step out of the tent in the morning and look at the South face of K2 in the cold crisp air, I want to ski it even more.

It is almost like a mid-life crisis for my ski mountaineering career. I can see the end closing in on me, babies. Once we have children I've vowed to not attempt extreme lines on 8000 meter peaks. And with children on the horizon I feel this is my only feasible chance to send something this big. I hope the challenges of fatherhood can provide an alternative outlet for my focus and energy, and I'm sure it will. But for now I see the next couple years as my last chance to ski K2. I'll never be younger, stronger and faster than I am now. I just need the opportunity to try it.


(Dave Watson and his Spire BCs in front of K2. Photo by Andy Selters.)

Last summer I went to try it, but because of the weather, I never got a shot at it. In the three months spent on the Godwin-Austen below K2 and Broad Peak there were only about 10 days of good weather. Much of that was spent acclimatizing to the extreme altitudes only found in the Himalaya, the other days were spent making an attempt on the summit of Broad Peak.


(Sunrise in the Karakoram Mountains, Broad Peak summit day. Camp 3 (7000m) is visible in the distance. Photo by Dave Watson.)

I didn't summit Broad due to fatigue. That fatigue made me concerned for my safety. Trying to ski the summit ridge in a tired state would be a mistake, so I decided it wasn't the right time and I turned around for the first time in a really long time. I had 1 more month in the area, more than enough time to make and attempt again on Broad Peak and on K2. The weather never allowed another day of skiing.

So as I gather my gear and tune some skis in anticipation of another awesome winter of powder skiing in the Himalaya, I have mixed emotions. My last run started at over 25,000 ft on the 12th tallest mountain in the world, and was AWESOME! Huffing and puffing while negotiating breakable crust and 2-foot-high sastrugi on 50-60 degrees then onto wet cement "powder" at 30-40 degrees then to frozen corn at 50-70 degrees then to shave-able corn at 50 degrees and then to rock strewn slop and cramponing down another 3000 ft to the bottom. So epic! So enjoyable! A true BIG mountain line.

I also think about Audrey, as I gather my Avie gear. Where I'll ski this winter has incredibly huge and destructive slides that go every storm cycle. The risk is manageable and acceptable. But the thoughts of her working 16 hour days then having to shovel snow, do the food shopping and all else that I can barely muster the motivation to tackle, it doesn't seem fair. I go from the high of reminiscing of high-mountain skiing to the lows and feelings of lameness for putting such a burden on my awesome partner.

I don't know if I'll ever get comfortable with these feelings or situations, I'm sure things will change, they always do. Will I find some other, safer and more responsible way to fulfill the need to be satisfied with my youth? We'll see, but for now I just want to ride powder.