| Summary | None |
| Owner | Lara Thompson |
| Creation Date | 2012-02-07 10:10:07 UTC-0500 |
| Description | Sunday, February 5, 2012
Eric Gilbertson & Lara Thompson (narrating) Eric was inspired for this trip by a photo he captured going up the nearby Nubble Pk. The two slides on N Twin promised ice or, at the very least, a wonderful ski run. Having co-led some Winter School trips with me to realize the full extent of my uncommon love of bushwhacking, he proposed we ski in (my preferred mode of travel), then hope for rope-worthy ice climbing up a slide. The top-out promised to be dense bushwhacking to the trail that would lead to the summit -- we both rented MITOC snowshoes for that final leg. I suppose I'm something of a wimp: the extra weight of those snowshoes on my pack didn't exactly inspire me when I imagined the beautiful skis I'd already have under my feet. I convinced myself I'd just ski the upper bushwhack, requiring that i climb the slide with the skis on my pack, but at least leaving snowshoes behind. Eric didn't care since he figured I'd be entertaining whatever outcome (skiing or not). So we set off, rope in my pack, extra boots and all the heavy metal gear and snowshoes in/on Eric's pack (extra books because he chose to telemark and telemark boots are too flexible for ice climbing!). We left the car parked at the end of Little River Rd (which no longer has no parking signs) and crossed a bridge onto an old road heading mostly south. This joined with an old logging road (shown on the mytopo.com map just left of the N Twin Trail) that we eventually had to give up to follow the valley up the drainage of the north side of N Twin. Somehow, when Eric led the charge, the forest would open up and our progress was smooth and easy. When I led, either because Eric gave up in the mess? or because I naturally gravitated toward the denser/messier bushes?, the way was blockaded by tangles of branches and fallen trees to cross. Ultimately, the path proved easiest of all when we followed a set of small animal tracks that led us into the creek bed itself. By then, we could mostly skin up the creek, circumventing the largest bouldery blockades via the forest of either side, and gained our first views of the backlit slides. Ever scoping for more ice, Eric photographed a gorgeous blue ice wall on the right side of our valley (an east facing cliff) to share with other (stronger) intrepid ice climbers. Skinning up the creek quickly led us to the base of the two slides. We chose the left since we could already see ice with promise on it. Eric ditched his skis here, switched boots, essentially emptying his pack. Quite the opposite, I loaded my pack with my skis, for once (and probably the only time) to carry a heavier pack than Eric (not that it apparently counts because I'm an entertaining complainer and complaining nullifies any feats of strength). I kicked steps on the side of the slide saving the best of the snow for my descent (and all mine!). Eric quickly took over after his repacking and delighted to take photos of me on the ice with skis on my pack. That terrible look of consternation that I have in this photo really doesn't tell a true story: I was loving that weight on my back and loving sinking my najas (my ice tools) into the cold/flaky ice. We reached some ice that could warrant using the rope. Eric the mountaineer (?) and me the rock climber exchanged preferences for racking/leading/etc (mostly just agreeing on everything, no surprise there). Eric led up some pretty easy ice until he finally reached a nice little headwall, but, alas, with not enough rope left to surmount it. I called up to him (what a luxury to both see and hear 60m up a lead!) that I could just simul climb the first easy bulge if he placed a screw (the fall being mostly mine in that case and nominally supported by the intervening screws that traversed somewhat to him leftward). That gave him enough slack to continue, on belay, up a nice bulge to the top of the ice shelf. While he set up his belay and I undid mine, we took symmetric photos of each of up and down the pitch (our camera clocks are not quite in sync so the photo order is only slightly messed up -- my camera is the epl2, his the other, littler olympus). At the top of that pitch (somehow it still feels like multipitch even though it was only a single pitch -- why is that?), we left behind the rope and all that metal (screws, draws, tools, crampons…). Eric switched to snowshoes and I put my skis back on. Setting out, I quickly realized I couldn't follow Eric's path. The steep slide would take several switchbacks, which I would normally do, but which promised to be slower than his beeline up the slope. When he started into the bush, still straight uphill, I gave up the skis (that was a sad moment). If I were with another skier, I'm certain the bushwhack would be doable if ridiculous on skis, but the path would be nothing like following a snowshoer. So, instead, I followed Eric on my hands and knees. Yes, I crawled after him for about 1/4 mile to the trail. Being an easy bruiser I can joke that the continuous bruising from the top of my boots on my shins to the tops of my knees is what happens when one doesn't do as Eric says (of course, it was the ice I repeated cracked/crashed through and the trees underneath I sometimes collapsed onto that did the bruising). Eric didn't fare so well in the lead either: he took the smallest snowshoes from the car and managed to actually require excavating at one point. To gain the trail, we found a lovely little bouldering problem with treeholds and stemming and precarious hand holds cut out of the icy crust (completely circumventable -- but where's the fun in that?). On the trail, I felt barely faster than I was crawling (I think I might have been tired by this point but partly, being in ski boots didn't much help, esp with stupidly clicked into ski mode! Side note: I'm good at excuses) but Eric, just as he did in the woods, managed to not make me feel like I was slowly us down excessively. We reached the windy summit before sunset and were awarded phenomenal views first to the east, continually to the south, and then to the west. For our summit shot, I thought up the rather cheesy pose of spelling out the N in poles then simply pointing to Eric (a twin after all) -- although mittens are unfortunate to point with. It was pretty cold so we didn't stick around. The trail led us to our bushwhack far too soon, but the downward bushwhack was practically a painless downward slide/swim/jump. I was overjoyed to put my skis back on, sans skins, too overjoyed, in fact, since i overskied the first little slope onto the ice below our final ice belay. Losing time again, I hiked back up the ice (holding skis, no crampons, far more fun!) to weigh down my pack again. While the centre of the slide was the ice we'd previously climbed, the left (skier's left, climber's right) was perfect snow effectively hiding a bullet proof crust at a continuous 30' easy/fun slope. I had to take my turns slowly with the weight and my far too out of shape ski legs (2 yrs off is a crime!) but they were heavenly! Esp while seeing Eric walking down one step at a time to the side. Eric switched boots again, loading himself down with the spare boots, metal and snowshoes (that frankly weren't all that effective being so small) and followed on telemarks. He wasn't nearly as bad a skier as he'd warned me he'd be so I was fairly relieved. Being lazy, I tried to never take my skis off to descent the boulder blockades etc while Eric laughed after me on foot. Our trail left the creek far too quickly and then we were crashing through the woods. Eric gave up a few times to walk and eventually, in solidarity? or because he was nominally keeping up anyway, I took off my skis too and we strapped them to our packs. Unfortunately, the way mine strap one brings them rather high so the crawling I thought (hoped?) I'd left behind proved useful again to creep until the worst of the criss-crossing tree boughs. Finally we reached the old logging road. Aside from a few water bars (or culverts as Eric would call them -- to me culvert should imply an actual metal tunnel/pipe thing), that I skied, the roads were wonderful. At my weakest, I foolishly ignored letting my ski dip into a bit of water. I laughed that Eric would soon see the pain that ensues. Of course, I didn't laugh a few seconds later when the ice balled up under me left ski binding. Luckily, it was such cold ice that a few whacks with my ski poles and a few minutes of skiing mostly on my right ski and only slightly wearing down the left, that ice cleared and I could ski like normal. The lesson here is: there's nothing funny about getting your skis wet! I was too tired to brake much so I stopped a few times to let Eric catch up. The moonlight was strong again and, in the open, the headlamps were almost (but not quite) redundant. The car was where we left it a mere (?) 12 hrs earlier. |