OK, after 2 weeks which including some
heavy rains, it’s time to pack the gear for one more weekend
adventure …..
Got an early start from the Flatlands and
encountered the following in the morning light:
Wild Turkey on Route 3, between Franconia Notch and Twin Mountain
2 Moose Route 115, just south of downtown Jefferson, NH.
Upon arrival, I met up with Dick and then
Jerm. I relaxed by the scale and even took a measurement of my
pack which was certainly well below the May 1992 recording of
83 pounds on a dusk trip to Hermit Lake. Jim and Kathleen showed
up and Denis, along with Jesse and Bob. From the lot, I could
see that the rains from a week and a half ago damaged those great
snowfields in the Gulf of Slides. Undaunted, we ascended the
sometimes muddy, but always empty trail at a spirited pace, despite
the fact that 58 year old Denis had heart problems, once.
At the memorial avalanche rescue gear shed,
we all met up with Jerm and Matt. Jim was seduced by the snowfields
and Jerm had this obsession with Oakes Gulf. But, we all opted
for the gullies in front of us. All of them had "breaks"
in the middle, hence a continuous top-to-bottom descent could
not be executed. Still, much potential lie in front of us. We
climbed up the main gully and split off to the climber's right.
An ice axe made things easier for me than the rest and made for
enjoyable climbing. We reached a point where it narrowed too
much for my liking and I figured that going higher would necessitate
bushwacking and a lessened ski experience.
But not Jim; he ascended higher through the brush. The descent
was sweet - soft snow, no real bumps, lotsa' sun. My AT gear
handled the soft stuff very well.
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Second ascent was on the climber's right -
a narrower, but longer run. Kathleen had a minor slip at the
steep "headwall" - which we estimated to be approximately
40 degrees - which only made her climb harder. Ascending, I made
3 grand hop turns, I paused and looked up and giggled at how
much vertical I chewed up on those turns, and then turned 'em
towards a narrowed dog leg which needed a bit of sideslipping.
Final descent through the main pitch was sweet.
Jim, meanwhile, climbed through the brush
to the upper half with Jerm for the goods up above. His report
revealed that it was better than I would have expected. |
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Afterwards, we all (minus Jerm and Matt)
headed down the rough trail for some beers at my truck. We all
agreed that the trail was longer than the 2.5 miles advertised,
but was also a worthwhile ski descent with it's classic roller
coaster qualities - kind of a high strung Sherburne Trail. [I
have skied it since then - even better than I had anticipated] |
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That night, I couldn't find a place to eat, gave up and crashed
at the Crawford Notch bunkhouse, where I shelled out $1 for a
shower. The poor hutmistress got a good laugh at the mud I tracked
in.
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Next morning, our team reassembled minus Kathleen.
We took a good leisurely stroll up to HoJo's. Despite the rough
blows from rains 10 days prior, much snow remained. The generous
amount of snow that I saw in Left Gully and Hillman's from Route
16 was not a hoax or optical illusion.
They really were in healthy shape! We saw
no use in heading up into the bowl when a grand 1,500+ vertical
foot pleasure ride lie in front of us. But before pleasure came
work. |
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The climb up was actually enjoyable; I daydreamed in and out
about climbing and other mountain adventures past and at the
moment. Some snow did collapse under me just above the 40+ degree
plus crux (climber's right, just after it splits; figure is based
on an inclimeter measurement I did just below this spot 2 years
prior), but my ice axe anchored me. Jim, in top physical condition
and well blessed, sped ahead of me on this highway to the heavens.
At the top, he revealed to me that he was short on time and needed
to make his well earned descent.
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I sat at the top and overheard a Smugglers
Notch Ski Area employee discuss plans about dropping into the
mega-fierce Dodge's Drop. With it's corniced top and 50 degree
pitch studded with rock outcroppings, I thought for sure that
he would strut over there, peer over the edge, see nothing but
the roofs of HoJos and the neighboring lean-tos and return with
his tail between his legs.
For those of you who may not know, Dodge's
Drop is that sinister chute that looms over you at Hermit Lake
while you innocently eat your snacks or people watch. |
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This ominous shot was first skied in the 1940's
by Brooks Dodge, more than a generation before the term "extreme"
was even conjured. Brooks is the son of cantankerous Joe Dodge
and if you don't know who Joe is, than you really don't know
Mount Washington!
After a rest and some snacking, I made my
descent. The very top of Hillman's is gentle, allowing one to
make a few ego-booster turns. Gradually, my turns dropped into
the meat of the Hillman's grinder. At the top of the couloir,
I found bumps and even some frozen granular and inconsistent
snow. The bumps were a bit awkward and I lost my rhythm. Much
rotten snow - or at least what I considered to be rotten - slid
from under me. I actually paused for a while and lost my cool
a bit and slowly got it back together, regaining my ski senses.
At the crux, I found great snow, regained ALL of my joy and made
some fantastic aggressive turns with a huge expanse of the mythical
North Country opening up under me.
I doglegged right and continued my descent,
savoring every moment. Often, you could find smooth "snowfield
snow" on the edges. At one point, I noticed out of the corner
of my eye, some rustling in the krumholz with some skis pointing
out - it was "Mr. Smuggs" from the top of the run.
I asked him where he just was. "Dodge's Drop" was his
reply which he followed up with "it was hairball with sketchy
snow and rocks".
His descent was verified by others who were
observing from HoJo's. I congratulated him, he warmly accepted
it (he knew he deserved plaudits - I can't blame him) and we
continued the descent through the bumps in the lower sector of
Hillman's. At the bottom, I ran into Dick and Denis, who were
packing up. They had ascended past the crux, but not to the top
and had a great run. We then said goodbyes as they had long trips
ahead of them. I went over to the deck at HoJos to relax.
In a way, it was a sad moment for me. It was
my last run of the year. But damn, was it goooooood. I went out
in style!
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