A Day On The Slopes

I wake up to 26 degrees and sunny skies.  It's going to be a warm one today, mid-forties.  Having noticed yesterday that the snow down at the trailer was consolidating pretty well, and after thinking about how it might be doing the same on the east face of Crater Mountain, I decided last night that maybe making the trek in to the backside of the Craters might result in some February spring skiing.  I like to eat big breakfasts on days like this, when I know I might be putting out a lot of energy.  But I had a big one yesterday (eggs, venison chili and toast), so I lighten things up a bit with a bowl of corn grits, molasses, maple syrup, walnuts and milk.

This has become one of my favorite cereal breakfasts of late.  I cook about three-morning's-worth of grits, and then have it handy for a quick microwave breakfast again in a day or two.  With a couple of oranges and three cups of coffee chasing it all down, I'm ready for the road.

Having left my skis and boots in the camper at the trailhead (along with various climbing gear, ice skates, roller skis), all I need is my daypack, lunch and ski poles.  I grab the trash at the last minute, too.  If the skiing isn't happening, maybe I'll end up in town.

I throw my bike on the back of the four-wheeler for the trip out, anticipating a ride of sorts with friend Michael in a couple of days.  The snowmobile transport was abandoned a week ago as more and more open patches of road sand appeared, so now the four-wheeler is my main squeeze.  It's a sturdy little machine, and saves me much grief during the shoulder seasons of backcountry life.

Now, the Mono Craters aren't exactly a skiing mecca.  Access can be interesting and the mid-season snow conditions change rapidly under the intense sunshine.  

Good fortune is with me.  It isn't too bad today, as I'm able to drive in south from Mono Mills for over a mile-and-a-half before the snow gets edgy.  That leaves less than a mile to traverse up through the Jeffery Pines to the base of the big face.

Much patient weaving from snow patch to snow patch, in and around the big Jefferies, is required to reach the open slope.  The trees on these steeper sections seem to have been spared somewhat from the brutal clear cutting this world-class forest endured during the Bodie mining boom.  Fine Jefferies stand tall with open spaces between, allowing plentiful sunshine to reach the pumice sand and pine needle floor.

I screw up a bit pushing too far south while approaching the slope base, and waste some time and effort wrestling with some sage bushes that are popping out of the snow.  It seems once you get off track and pushed in a direction that you don't really want to go, it is difficult to correct course.  When I eventually emerge onto the open slope half way up, however, I realize my efforts are well worth it.  This looks like fun.

It takes another 45 minutes to reach the top of the slope and onto the saddle that separates this debris cone from the next one to the north.  It is a lovely spot, with impressive views west to the Sierras:

...and east to the Inyo/Whites:

I'll admit it right now - the snow isn't great.  Once up on the saddle, it becomes clear that the aspects that see more of the suns rays are in much better shape than the deeper parts of the face that look out to the east.  I enjoy several turns where the saddle sweeps over onto the south-facing edge of the main wall, but once the open ground and trees push me over into the center of the bigger face, the crusties begin to fight each turn, and before I know it I launch out over my ski tips with arms outstretched into a superman impersonation soaring downslope, ending in a soft face plant.  Not near so bad to experience this humiliation solo.  Maybe that's why I'm up here all alone.

Several more turns bring me to the bottom of the open slope, still fighting crusty conditions, but better now in amongst the big trees.  Shooting through the lower-angled forest is a joy, linking shallow turns around the massive trunks.  After digging into the pumice on a turn or two, it's time to de-ski.  I hoof it back down to the waiting camper in about 15 minutes and enjoy a warm beer in the sun.

Rolling down the sand-and-snow road, the camper swaying from side to side, I smile to myself while relishing this physical stupor.  Nothing epic about this day at all, no bottomless pow, no sugary corn, no necklace of linked turns unzipping down the center of Monache Face.  No, none of that.  Just plenty of good, solid outdoor adventure with miles alone and smiles to share.

                                                                                                                   -gmm

:-)