Mark wrote a nice summary of the trip (in his own unique style), but I’ll add my own version.

It probably was a combination of factors, but I was a bit nervous at the beginning of this trip. The gale-force winds and sideways snow that I endured from the border through to Calgary probably didn’t help, nor did the angular evening shafts of light accentuating the steep rocky peaks on my drive through the Bow valley. Yam, Ha ling, Rundle, Castle, Temple and other peaks were forbidding in their stature, standing as a warning against outside intruders. Why was I going to ride some steep, exposed lines with some people that I had never been out with before? I’m generally pretty fit, but having not been out splitboarding much in the last month, I was also a bit unsure of whether I could keep up with the natives who get out for big tours on a regular basis.

So when g. hill and Mark arrived in the LL parking lot in g’s big diesel truck, I was probably a bit reserved. Undoubtedly they were also wondering whether this random splitboarder could survive a journey on one of the big rockies faces. So credit is due to all of them for taking a chance on an internet date (as greg would later joke about my rendezvous with Mark).

Needless to say, everything ended up working out just dandy. Mark and Greg have perhaps the most totally opposite personalities – Mark is very quiet and discreet, although you can tell that he’s thinking a lot more than he lets on. Greg, on the other hand, is extremely effusive and talkative, but the exterior hides a more contemplative core. Combined, they probably make a good match for the mountains, and I fit somewhere in between the two poles of personality.

That evening, we also met up with Jonny Red (aka John Walsh, a serious climber who’s even been up most of the NF of the north twin), Chris Alstrin (a filmer from CO), and LJ (a rad female splitboarder from Golden, and a softbooter no less). Together, we all set out from the chateau at 4:30 the next morning with the aim of shredding the sickle on Mt. Victoria.

The sickle is an incredible pow line, but with a serious sting in its tail and a potentially deadly approach. To get up there, you first have to pass through the death trap, a huge terrain trap beneath the east face and its ominous hanging glacier. Next, an exposed traverse above some gigantic cliffs is in order, followed by a long bootpack above the glacial bench then up to the summit. Not the kind of place to take a tumble. Once up top, the line seems much more benign, but you must constantly remember to avoid letting the sluff sweep you down and to your demise. Luckily for me (and all of us), my timing was about as perfect as could be – the line was in pow conditions and fat, the snowpack was super stable, and there hadn’t been too much warming yet.

Cliffs on the way up

Mark heading into the death trap, the line approximately above the frozen waterfall

Coming up from the valley with the early morning light starting to warm the south faces.

Mark could potentially belong in Miami with the flower shirt and bared chest. Style!

Jonny Red, psyched to shred his third line on the peak (after the E. and NW faces)

View towards the chateau

Mark with a serac looming in the background

Greg et al through the legs

Jonny at the top

And LJ

Greg getting ready to shred

Jonny goes to set up his photo spot. I wasn’t as motivated to find the best position.

Greg digs in

Mark’s turn

Our tracks from the plain of the six glaciers

Chilling at the lunch spot after shredding

That afternoon, we had some serious indecisiveness when deciding what to do the next day. We eventually decided on Bident, only to be shut down with the Moraine lake road being closed. Chilling in the sunshine, it was just so easy to put off the choice until later in the day, even though we eventually had to settle on something. Finally, we decided to go back to where we knew it was really good, and shred an even more spectacular line on Victoria – the east face.

Another 3:30 wakeup and 4:30 start, and we were off up the valley for the second time. Along the way, we skinned up an extremely crusted slope, which was probably my physical crux for the day (not being in hard boots), and then gradually eased into still powdery conditions on the upper glacier.

I don’t have any photos of the way up since I was more focused on the steep bootpack than wrangling my camera, but it was perfect booting conditions and exhilarating to be in such a cool position. I was unusually content to let the others put in the steps on the way up, and was thankful to have two solid partners with me.

Endless mountains on top. Many more lines to shred!

Getting ready

Scoping

Mark charging into it. I wasn’t in a great position for photos but didn’t want to get out on the face, and was glad I didn’t because Mark released a small pocket of windloaded snow (expected) that could’ve been an issue.

Greg’s turn

Our turns from the base of the run

And from afar. It was quite entertaining walking back out along the lake and explaining to the hordes of tourists what we were doing, no – there aren’t any ski lifts there, yes-we woke up very early, etc. Rather surreal, and really neat to check out our lines from the chateau

Afternoon napping and dry-out back at the cars

The next day we had the idea to go for triple gold and shred skyladder on Andromeda. We packed up, and headed up the parkway.

Cooking dinner on the side of the road.

Unfortunately, once we got there, skyladder wasn’t looking so hot. It was possible that one could sneak through the choke between the ice patch and the rock, but that was far from certain and was extremely exposed. Sitting in our cars in the blowing cold wind, I was thinking that I might back down even if they were enthusiastic. Looking over at greg’s face, however, I could see from his expression that probably none of us would be riding skyladder the next day, which brought a sense of relief. Even though we have all had wildly different experiences, it was cool to see that we all were in agreement about drawing the line.

Skyladder, looking gnarly

So we opted for a “wind-down” day of heading up and shredding off either Athabasca or maybe the north aspect of silverhorn. Even there, however, significant windloading was evident once we got up high, which gave us plenty of warning signs that we were better off backing down.

Heading up Athabasca

Views on the way back out the parkway. It never gets old.

Once arriving back at LL, the upcoming weather forecast wasn’t looking so good for me to stick around. Nearly every slope had been baked, the next day was supposed to be a bit less pleasant, and then it was going to take a few days after that to warm up. I decided to take the cue, and readied my messy car to leave while Mark packed his stuff up to hitch-hike home. Greg had a ski-modeling mission in Banff the next day, so we were all heading in different directions.

Despite getting shut down on the final day, I couldn’t have asked for better conditions, better lines or better ski partners. I knew that I wanted to come up north for the terrain, and knew that riding with Mark and the revy crew would not disappoint. Extra cheers for the good company and good times.

Heading to the moon.

It's a long way

Generating Electricity

Building Kinetic Energy

Release, Part 1

Release, Part 2

Back on the surface of the earth

I find encouragement in hearing someone have so much  pride in their history, community, and the life they’ve lived.  It seems so rare to find people that have such a strong sense of where they came from and who are content with everything they’ve been given.  He was downright optimistic, even though at 85, had seen so much change, much of it in a negative direction.

I don’t know whether Sarah and I will remain in Bozeman, leave and come back, or leave altogether, but I’d like to think that at some point we will lay down roots somewhere, a place where we will know everyone at the bar, and they will know us.

The next morning, we went for a pleasant, rainy run on the meandering community paths around Three Forks.  People were out fishing in the ponds, driving around on four-wheelers, and enjoying a lazy morning before going to church.  It felt a lot like Eureka, and it felt good.

Following are a few photos from a trip up to Valier, MT earlier in the week (yes, more driving!) to visit with an agricultural producer growing durum, spring wheat, canola, peas, lentils and malting barley.  Yup, it’s definitely springtime in Montana.

Irrigated stubble waiting for the snow on the Rocky Mountain Front to melt.

Stormy weather southwest of Sun River.

Be back soon, Valier...

Thanks a ton to Trevor for carpooling out there, jumping right into the steeps without hesitation, and hanging at my parents’ house on Sunday.  I was glad to have you along!

And much thanks to Ben, Chris, John and Kyle for being fun, solid riding partners!  And of course it would not be possible without sb.com!!!

Trevor on our first run. I think the snow will be okay!

Yep, it'll do.

We met up with John, Kyle, Ben and Chris on the cat track. Good company!

Blueberry fashion model Kyle boots up from the Blueberry chutes.

Ben follows. Not so blueberry anymore.

Ben and Chris on the bootpack.

Kyle finds a patch of sunlight.

Chris sharing one of his classic turns.

I wish the autofocus was working for this one. John scoping the rollover.

Chris again.

Kyle feathering the turn.

Ben in a cloud of powder.

Next day. Kyle pointing out the BYS couloir. Looks nice!

Kyle skinning.

We heard/saw the after effects of a serac calving on the way up.

Up towards the bootpack and Curtis glacier.

The clouds were in and out all day but never became too threatening. Good thing!

Lenticular starting to form over Baker.

Skinning on the hanging glacier.

Looking towards Ross Lake and the Pickets.

Getting ready to roll.

Kyle heads to the edge of the world.

Trevor with the summit pyramid looming.

I ended up riding Red and strongly advising the others to turn back and ride green to avoid some lurking ice (luckily they did). I saw some others ride the NF to BYS (yellow) while I was cooling my heels at the base.

Light illuminating the skin track.

The hanging glacier of death. Wouldn't want to be underneath there (I was safely tucked away)!

Other dude(s) riding the bottom of the BYS. Probably what we should have done.

The splitboard.com man on the final day. Enjoying life.

Chris still finding powder between the tracks.

Nick’s Blog

Amazing that underneath the several feet of new snow the snowpack is actually isothermal below ~8500 ft.

Other than that, I did a little bit of riding in the rain over the weekend, and had some pleasant days with Sarah and the dogs.

Nick disappearing, coming through, then disappearing again.

I’m still feeling quite out-of-sorts after Steve’s death, and consequently put in a rather heinous skin track in the trees to avoid any open slopes.  Luckily, with some easy terrain management, there was no real chance of anything moving.  Temperatures in the mountains probably hit the low 50s, so warm clothing was optional and we all basked in the strangely-warm March heat.

On Sunday, Sarah and I went for a quick run halfway up Baldy, then just chilled at the house for the rest of the day.  Relaxing day, although perhaps not exactly what I had in mind for spring break…

Will throwing some spray

Ray getting back on his splitboard

Dave still remembers what this "powder" thing is all about.

Dave skinning

Ray on the up-track

Will was a full-service shop today. Apparently if you buy his bindings, he takes care of your transitions for you. Thanks Will!

This is March? The landscape looked parched but we sure enjoyed the rays! Dave enjoying his classic pizza leftovers.

Ray riding the ridge.

Dave carving before he popped out of view.

I’m not sure why these avalanche fatalities are striking so close to home for me right now – perhaps it is the personal connection, perhaps the implications for my own mortality, or perhaps for some other reason entirely.  It’s just weird to think that one day someone with so much vitality is there, then the next they are gone, and in their wake sits a huge hole, with nothing but sadness to fill it…

Rest in Peace, Steve.

Steve Romeo approaching 6-mile cirque in 2006. May your future runs be filled with powder and smiles.