G.O.S. and Tin Can Alley

April 30, 2011

Happy Birthday Phil
Glad we could make this trip into G.O.S. today! We arrived early enough to get off-street parking. A passing shower moved in, Phil hiked on ahead, I ducked back in the car and drove back to N. Conway for a Scenic Vista tryst with Anne who handed off my forgotten climbing skins.

9:45 -back on the trail. Sunnier aspects of the middle portion ski trail have lost snow to the Ellis. Tried an active bypass, climber's left just above the 2nd wet stream crossing. Followed this high-relief skin track, stuck to the monorail, until it rejoined the ski trail. May have been suitable, were it not for melt out and lots of hobblebush.

hobblebush

High-tailed it up the south gully just behind Phil. Maybe 2 dozen people in there and reportedly, 1 bear. South and North gully best, Central has a bit of a choke in it, snowfields look sweet, short.


After our runs up high, we chose a little tour over a remarkable trail, which must remain nameless.








The way out: A ski trail to a hiking trail on a mixed surface with mixed nuts, and plenty of walking in ski boots for one day, thank-you.

G.O.S 4-19-11

GOS Tuesday April 19 with Phil  and Ian. These fellows may have eighty years experience of big mountain, back country skiin between them. Summit reported 5" snow previous 48 hrs. Left the base late morning in bright sun, fair weather clouds, middle clouds moving in south and west.

Climbed/skied 1st gully lookers left. Some debate on what to call it. #1? Climbing in baselayers and sweatbands to the ridge. There were foot-deep drifts of fresh, just there, and breezy. Lower down, shallow runnels from either rain or sloughing had trapped a little of the white as well. Covered up, quick takeoff. A hundred feet in, cornucopious!

On the steep, every turn touched off a shallow cascade of silver crumble racing downhill. The crumbly, light as it was, was just sublime. It is firnspiegel, german for snow mirror, the thin layer of clear ice that forms with freezing temps above the surface but penetrating solar radiation that melts the snow beneath the ice. The ice acts like greenhouse glass. When it reflects the sun like a crystal it's called glacial fire. <Mountaineering, Freedom of the Hills, "Cycle of Snow", ed. Ronald English> That stuff reminds me of sea foam, or what my father-in-law called meerschaum. To the french, it may be suggestive of a "palmier", a flakey, puff pastry sprinkled with sugar.

One and done as the sun clouded over around 2 PM. Ski trail was full run but for one bridge crossing. One more warm day, you may clicking out halfa dozen times.

Doggone Skiing Again

My only daughter,  Moose Pond

Pleasant Mountain

Acadia. She's in her golden years, still athletic, but starting to get a little lumpy. No way she'll let me off easy if I drive away without her this afternoon. We're going skiing.

We set out. I'm climbing straight up on alpine touring gear; she's focusing on unseen stimuli with an enviable single-mindedness. After a little exercise-induced chunder, she explores the flotsam and jetsam that litters lift-served ski trails in the spring. She roots through the grainy substrate for emergent snow blooms: rototilled beer cans, empty Acquafinas, ski pole baskets, chapsticks, and candy wrappers. She chews on a stiff mitten, passes up a fresh, tubular turd (that's my girl) for a roll in a stain of bright red machine lubricant.

She’s keen on the cars streaming over the Rte. 302 causeway that crosses Moose Pond. They’re a thousand feet below us, a mile and a quarter away. At this distance, they are scaled down to about the size of chipmunks. Scratch that itch later.

She soaks herself in the cool snow, unimpressed by the slurry of fungus, algae, phytopathogenic bacteria, and diesel residue that is the unintended spring crop when men farm the snow.

When we reach the top, it's in her nature to accept the inevitable 180 degree turn of events. It has been, so far, an idyllic doggie outing, but what she doesn't know is she's about to get a snow sports lesson. Her webbed feet, swim fins in summer, snowshoes in winter, and squatty conformation seem well suited to downhill pursuit. Her strong front end pulls her into the corners, and her fat rump will leave a little schmear at the bottom of every turn. We can live with that.

We follow the area's trademark run, friendly and steep as a cow's face, wide with snow. All the better for admiring our signature from the base parking lot. She's trotting fast on my tail thru a few long turns, but I can tell it's a strain keeping up. I decide to shorten up and increase the cadence. Her normal gait right down the hill will be ok if I keep it slow. Too fast and she'll be in a downhill gallop, ears flying, an eighty-pound, blackrabbit, out of control.

With the setting sun, our narrowing shaft of illuminated terrain is moving. My turns deviate repeatedly from a shadow sideline to a more abrupt border, skier’s right. It's a three-foot drop of misjudgement into highlights of sun in ruddy detritus: scattered pine cones, wintergreen, and blueberry bushes. Wouldn't she like that?

We stop only to look back at our tracks. It's easy to see a pattern on the dirty snow. Hmm...turn shape changes as amplitude decreases, frequency the same. Our signature mark is dollarsigndollarsigndollarsign...or is it some resolute strand of spaghetti crossed with ramen noodles?

We're done and heading home. She's in the back seat with her head propped up on the headrest, looking out the rear window of the Outback, out toward the mountain. I doubt she's compiling a balance sheet on the trip: worth the climb? opportunity cost? missed dinner! why can’t he keep up?

Good girl. Who do you love?

April 9, 2011 G.O.S.

Spring skiing arrived almost overnight on Mt. Washington this year. I had a weekend work schedule and there's been considerable avalanche danger, so I hadn't climbed until this weekend. To make a point: April 2nd GGT had packed powder on a 2-3' base along its entire trail system. Up above, spindrift was peeling off Nelson Craig and the snow-coach couldn't get through the drifts at the horn. Snowfall and snowpack is way ahead of last year, but just average. Up high, there's snow in all the right places, except on the west side. Compared to last season, the west side is barren.

I invited Doug along for an Alpine tour into G.O.S., our 2nd outing together. Doug tested his new gear back in early February on the Sherburne Trail. He's on a pair of Solomon Shogun 100mm skis with a 30% rise with a pair of Solomon AT boots clicked into Marker Tour f12s.

Had a simple plan. Weather was sunny and warm. Avi rating was low on all aspects except for colder, north facing steeps. There was still soft slab from a 3-inch storm and blow-in from earlier in the week. Parking at Pinkham would be overflow, streetside. The plan was be early enough to park and get in a run before it got too soft. The freeze-thaw cycle was only in its second day, so sunny aspects might be like cement.

Conditions up high were consistent. 3-4" of wet, unconsolidated mank, beginning to corn up, and well bonded to a hard layer. First turn, Doug stubbed his toe on some treetops and went over the handlebars. He recovered quickly and hit his stride mid-way down. Deep blue sky, wall to wall snow on the ski trail, all gullies chock-a-block fulla snow. Leisurely pace in, out by 2:30.


That same day, these gentlemen passed us on the approach and were later caught on camera by Time for Tuckerman forum member Steve Snowrider. That's ok fellas. We can't keep up with you guys anyway and enjoyed chatting with your wives. Catch you some other time.