We woke up in Jackson NH, in our little creaky wood cabin to the sun shining and the birds chirping. There was a fresh 2-3" of snow on the ground from the day before. After a quick breakfast of coffee, bacon, eggs, and pancakes Luke and I head off north on RTE 16 towards the Pinkham Notch visitor center.
Pinkham Notch is a mountain pass in the White Mountains of north-central New Hampshire. The notch is a result of extensive erosion during the Wisconsinian ice age. Pinkham Notch was eroded into a glacial U-shaped valley whose walls are formed by the Presidential range and Wildcat Range. The bulk of the western slope of the notch is formed by Mount Washington, the highest peak in the northeast US reaching 6,288 feet above sea level. Source
On the southeast face of Mt. Washington there is a glacial cirque sloping eastward known as Tuckerman Ravine, AKA Tucks. Tucks is known widely throughout the northeast as a hub for steep extreme skiing, with runs between 40-55 degree pitch. A goal for the spring when avalanche conditions mellow out is to ski Tucks in some capacity. The goal of our mission today was to see Tucks in all its wintery glory.
Once we were on RTE 16, we didn't need a GPS to get to the visitor center. We could use the observatory on top of Mount Washington as our compass. The closer we got to the visitor center, the more defined the observation tower got. A large brown sign greeted us as the entrance into the visitor center, which also serves as a parking lot for the trailhead. The euphoria of the pristine clear sky, shining sun, and beautiful snow capped mountains shattered as soon as we parked and opened up the door. There was a snow devil (strong, well formed-whirlwind spiraling a column of snow upwards towards the treetops) to greet us in the parking lot. A quick reminder that the wind will be a factor today.
The reports were calling for 30-40mph sustained winds, with a -45 degree F windchill at the peak. We were approaching from the east, which today was the leeward side so knew we would be protected for most of the approach. The parking lot however was exposed just enough to get the occasional gust to send anything not properly weighted down flying into the abyss. I have big clunky leather mittens, or nothing at all and when booting up I had to resort to the nothing in order to properly tie them up. My hands went numb within the 2 minutes it takes to tie my boots, and I was ready to get going.
Once the boots were on, skins were on, and poles properly adjusted we were ready to head off. There was enough snow on the ground that we could put our skis on in the parking lot and start sliding towards the trailhead.
At the trailhead there's a map and today's avalanche conditions marked as considerable. 2-3" may not sound like a lot, but combined with the sustained loading wind speeds of 30-40mph at the ridgeline, that meager 2-3" can easily become 1+ feet on the leeward side. Wind slabs up top would be the primary concern.
The plan was to stay well below avalanche terrain though, sticking to the low angle treeline and only slightly dabbling in the alpine. The trail was a very well cut, well traveled road that lead to a structure known as the Hermit Lake shelter 2.5 miles up. Man it felt good to go uphill on a splitboard again. It's been over 10 months since last going uphill on snow, which has been the longest haitus within the past 5 years. It always feels a little rusty at first, but it was smoother than last year, when my first day back I put my skins on backwards and didn't realize until way further than I'm willing to admit.
The trail we were on was the Tuckerman Ravine trail, which runs adjacent to the well known as the Sherburne Ski trail. There is enough traffic around such that traffic is usually goes one-way, up on Tucks and down on the Sherbie. On the trail We were very quickly sheltered from the gusting wind and with the sun shining through the evergreens. It was a very pleasant ascent. The road remained a pretty even grade, which was enough to feel like you were ascending but not steep enough to worry about risers. We got the occasional peak through the trees to the South Wall of the Huntington Ravine, which has some hollywood-esque looking chutes.
After about an hour, we could feel the wind starting to pick up, which was our clue that we were getting closer to the alpine. I put my shell and gloves back on and sure enough a few minutes later was the first clearing through trees where we could see the tops of lines which we came to learn were called Stove Pipe, Dodge's Drop, and Cathedral. (insert pic here). I only got the one picture before the death grip of cold quickly drained the battery.
We passed a couple of buried lean-to shelters, and then reached the Hermit Lake shelter where the cirque was stretched out in front of us in all of its glory. We were once again exposed to the unforgiving wind, and made our way to the porch on the leeward side of the shelter to get a few minutes of protection. Very quickly body temps dropped as we went from actively moving up hill to resting. How quick of a drop that is always surprises me. I packed a big puffy for this exact reason, but I thought we would be moving again soon and didn't bother putting it on. We had a quick sandwich and some still miraculously hot tea and then planned the next move.
The shelter was the planned destination, and the easiest way down is the adajcent Sherbie ski trail which is obviously marked. But I wanted to get to the floor of the ravine, which would lead to a panoramic view of all of the lines available. So we started looking at the maps posted in the windows of the shelter behind which we picniced, and learned that if we ascend the Little Headwall, a short but steeper waterfall/drainage, we could get there in abou another 700 vertical feet. A long time local advised that there may not be enough snow to make it, but we got eyes on it, which looked like a small filled in gulley right in the beginning of the alpine. And what's more, there were already two beautiful ski tracks from today in it.
The new goal was to ski that gulley. The road we took up to the shelter ends, and now its much tighter trails which are completely covered in snow. All this to say, we're bushwacking from here. Although it's not a complete bushwack, because two people did the same thing earlier that day, and left evidence. We use their skin track as a guide, gut checking with out intuition and orientation along the way. Just past the shelter there's a cute little sign that says "welcome to the alpine" and we could see trees quickly dropping away in favor of rocks. This skin track is immediately much steeper and more technical. Our pace is much slower because we are now entering unknown and unmarked territory, relying on our research of the maps, and Luke's prior knowledge doing this the day after prom in 2008. The route into the gulley is straightforward enough, but the principal concern is the egress. We can see the gulley drops back into the treeline, and then flattens out. The main question is what that connecting piece of forest looks like from the runout of the gulley back to the shelter where we can hop onto the Sherbie. Luke vaguely remembers there being a connecting trail, and we can observe some old ski tracks on the north wall that point to where the connecter would be.
We feel comfortable with our ability to navigate the unknown, so commit to entering the little drainage at the top, which will take us to the opening we saw from the shelter. The little drainage is clearly a creekbed that is covered with enough snow to not break through, and the "gulley" we saw from the shelter was the waterfall known as the little headwall. Once securely in the drainage, I finally get to put my big puffy on, and transition to downhill mode and start sliding.
Since we're clearly on top of a water feature, there are some spots that are more shallow than others, so we stay as high as possible. This is precision skiing now. The drainage gives us pretty much a single track to operate on, which navigates away from either bulletproof ice, or holes that lead directly to water. Following it down, we shortly make it to the entrance that we saw from the shelter. This is the waterfall that is now covered in snow, and looks like if there are any pow slashes to be had, its within the next four turns. But right before the open gulley, there is the narrowest choke point yet, and I end up on my knees and try to do an awkward scoot/wiggle while weighting my fists (a move only other snowboarders can really appreciate) and I punch through the 4 inch thick snow staring at the rushing water about a foot below. With all the snow the ravine has gotten, its easy to forget that there is indeed running water right below your feet, and that was a poingent reminder to proceed gingerly with caution.
I stand back up to bridge my weight more evenly across the entire surface area of my board, and edge over to a safe spot and let Luke do the same. He stays upright on his skis and slides over effortlessly. Now after a picking through a hairy line to get here, we can relax and enjoy some good turns. Looking back I counted about 4 proper pow turns before stopping to keep Luke in sight. He proceeds with smiles as well, and we cruise down the rest and find the connector that Luke was talking about. From there it's like a cat track at a resort to link up with the Sherbie.
We pause at the top of the Sherbie to mentally relax, we're back in the known and we can trust this is easy skiing back to the car now. It probably the equivalent of a blue run at a resort, taking all the side snyerps down. We have a good 2.5 miles back to the car and take our sweet time making large sweeping turns, leapfrogging who's out in front, and grinning from ear to ear without a care in the world. It was a great feeling to go up, but an incredible one to slide back down. Feeling the connection of my foot to my boot, boot to binding, and binding to board. Feeling the board hold an edge in the soft snow, and feeling the wind whip past. A good reminder why this is one of my favorite things to do in life.
Back at the car, that was when the switch flipped from "skiing in the NE just isn't worth it" to "there's a ton of potential here". It was like staring into the heart of "insert your favorite bowl in the rockies here". But on the East Coast! Even pictures didn't quite do it justice, I had to see it for myself. And when I did, I'm more excited than ever to explore what else is out there.