Craig Wolfrom's Photographic Blog

I was on the road crossing the Snake River aquifer 30 minutes after my kids left for school. It took 3.5 hours to get to the Patagonia Outlet in Dillon, two more minutes to Baldwin’s house, and 45 to the trailhead (minus the quick breakdown and repair). Then, not only did I loose my wedding ring-I lost track of time. A small disturbance was passing overhead, touching the tops of the peaks; it’s squalls leaving a few inches of accumulation. At the trailhead, a track had already been put in and was lightly covered with Montana smoke.

I grabbed the rope, and we were out of the valley and into the forest. “Off the couch” best describes six hours of inactivity followed by a 15 mile tow. Baldwin had to return to get Charlie dog, so I put my skins on and headed up to get out of the forest and get a lay of the land before we chose our campsite. The tour freed up my cramping legs and pointed toward a higher lake near a playground of terrain with multiple aspects-and a beautiful peak with a classic splitter couloir.

Baldwin returned with his dog and we moved the duffle bags and backpacks up another few hundred yards. The sun had set and camp was in place just as our headlamps needed to be turned on. Considering some of the places 12 hours of travel can take you these days, it was surprising that I was only 300 miles from my Idaho home and there was no other place I’d rather have been.

In the early morning before the sky broke into color, the storm passed leaving frigid air in its place. My toes were cold in my -15 sleeping bag. For some reason, we made breakfast in the cold instead of immediately skinning up for a warm up run; our camp in the shade of the trees. Though, full bellies and the sun do make for a nice combination. We left camp and crossed the lake. A wolf’s tracks crossed near a a previous party’s skin track, both had been set only a few days prior. Not knowing a damn thing about the snowpack in the area except that the rest of the Mountain West, from Tahoe to SLC to Bozeman, was suffering from drought or facets, we dug in on a mellow angle. To our bewilderment, 8 feet of snow was reacting like a mid April snowpack. We didn’t complain.

Starting out on the mellow, nothing whumpfed or settled, small roll overs stayed in place, ski cuts across mid angled bowls held fast and the story rang true from South to North, East to West. So, the peak I noticed on my initial tour, the one that beckoned upon first site, ended up becoming our playground offering up four classic lines which we both thoroughly enjoyed.

The weather was impeccable; the dog stayed warm in his improvised haul sack hotel; my toes stayed warm so long as I slept with my boot liners on; no avalanches; met a few local snowmobilers; ate elk; drank whiskey, and just about ran out of stove fuel. We kept using the word, “amazing.” The beauty of skiing in this part of the range is indescribable and the hotspring, burgers and beer that await you just a few miles from the trailhead makes for the smoothest transition back to the rat race you’ll ever encounter!

.