Trip Report: Tetons, April 2024
- Dominic Rickicki
- Oct 19, 2024
- 13 min read
He said again that short turns were like "counting pennies, standing on the escalator," and what I wanted to do was rush straight down the slopes until I existed only in the moment of passage, where to stop meant "a certain deceleration that will tear you out of the flow of the world."
-Peter Kray
Peter's words hung in the air as Mark, Ethan and I sat in the car at the Taggart Lake Trailhead. Reading passages from his book 'The God of Skiing', has become somewhat ritualistic amongst the circle of skiers I spend the majority of my winter with. Sitting in the dark under the shadow of the Tetons, reading the section of the book set in these mountains seemed not only appropriate, but necessary. I shut the book and tossed it onto the dash in a mic drop fashion, queuing us to rub the sleep out of our eyes and start walking.
The time I have spent climbing and skiing in the Tetons is incredibly brief. Of all the traveling I have done throughout this country for rock and snow, Grand Teton National park hadn't been high on my priority list until recently. My first trip to Jackson where I actually had the time to get some skiing done was just last year and was merely a choice made because it is conveniently located half-way between myself and my friend Mark. It was an easy choice for the two of us to go skiing there together because of Jacksons well known history of world class backcountry, but had it not been a central point for us, it may still be a hole in my resume.
My time backcountry skiing with Mark goes all the way back to my first day on a skintrack, where I snowshoed behind him and Pali with a snowboard on my back through the Adirondack high peaks. Mark had only started skiing a year or two prior to my knowledge and was impressively going head first into skiing backcountry snow with us all. Since then the large group of us that skied religiously together has moved around the country (and the world, Pali is somewhere in Europe these days I think) but Mark and I have stayed in touch and skied together at least once a season for years now. Looking back on our backcountry blunders from college, to now sitting at the Taggart Lake trailhead attempting premier ski mountaineering lines, is rewarding and mildly amusing.
Day 1: Nez Perce
Our previous year in the Tetons was spent mostly skiing what locals would likely consider smaller lines (though compared to our home ranges they're pretty long and committing feeling). We also were car camping then and spent a lot of our days tired and somewhat slow to get going in the morning. This year we got an airbnb and set our sights on loftier goals.
Todays objective to get us "warmed up" was what we were hoping would be some combination of The Sliver couloir and The Hourglass couloirs on Nez Perce. The Tetons had just received a refresh of snow up high that we hoped buried crusts from a previous high pressure system, and would give us good skiing.
As we skinned up in the morning, lower elevations had a mere skiff of snow on them and we had fast travel on firm snow, a good thing for our legs, but concerning for our skiing. As we gained elevation our moods lifted as we kept finding deeper snow conditions. To get to the sliver we had to make a fast transition and ski a short steep slope to a valley below the line. Clouds hung around the peak and we could only catch a glimpse of the line here and there, but the sweet pow turns down our short descent gave us hope for good conditions.
At the base of the line we skinned a short ways up the apron before it was pretty clear we needed to begin booting. We switched to our crampons and began working up the line. The couloir faces east, so there was a pretty stout crust under the snow for us to get purchase in, but left something to be desired for skiing. That changed quickly though as we gained elevation and found the line had filled in quite nicely and we wallowed our way up the fresh snow. The trailbreaking was exhausting in the dense spring snow and we took turns in front, each persons lead getting shorter as we worked harder to dig a trench up to the couloir.
At the top we had a decision to make. We could ski the line and then reascend it to then rappel into the west side of the notch to ski the East Hourglass, or we just go into the East Hourglass now, skip skiing the sliver, and then maybe snag a lap on the West Hourglass. Mark was still getting over being sick from the previous week and was feeling tired and less psyched to reascend, admittedly though we all were pretty worked and I wasn't pushing back. The skiing in the couloir would have been good, but admittedly we knew we were going to bottom out on that crust the whole way still. We also carried ropes and gear for rappelling and didn't really want to just ski The Sliver and go down from there after lugging all that around. Ultimately we decided to rap into the East Hourglass in hopes of finding a less sun affected sub-surface and for the sheer fun of rapping into a line.
My confidence moving around on steep snow in crampons is pretty high from years of guiding snowy peaks and being an ice climber, so getting into the East Hourglass I decided to skip the first rap anchor and just down climb snow to the second anchor. Ethan and Mark followed but reflecting on this choice I should have just rappelled. There was high exposure and Mark was less attuned to steep snow down climbing, Ultimately putting him in that position was a mistake and unnecessary. He and Ethan made it down to me though, we rigged the rap and then made two raps into the top of the line.
We found nice pow at the top of the line, with tight steep turns to get us going before the couloir became more broad and we could open it up a little more. The walls of the mountain soared high above us and the position was excellent. Before dropping in I looked up to the sky and noticed I could see an eclipse that was happening that day, filtered through the clouds. Stoked, I told those guys to check it out and we all admired it. The snow was variable in the gut of the run and we were still knocking around on a crust under the snow and catching frozen rollerballs. The snow wasn't slabby but it also wasn't wonderfully adhered to the crust under it and I kicked off some minor slow moving sloughs descending first. At the bottom of the line I skied up to a high point out of harms way and smiled as I watched Mark ripping down the line, his comfort once skis were on his feet, clearly higher than mine.
Ethan joined us last, he was Marks friend from Idaho that joined us for this trip. It was the first time I saw him ski and was psyched to see he shredded the hardest of all of us. It was going to be a good week.
We were now positioned under the West Hourglass. There were tracks from skiers just before us and they kicked a lot of slough off the run. We decided the juice wasn't really worth the squeeze to ski the crust they left behind, and we had a few more days of skiing left so we kept descending. The next 1,000 or so feet of skiing was absolutely sublime bottomless pow on a 35 degree face. I dropped first made a few turns and stopped to look back, throw my hands up,
and holler to my buddies to let them know it was amazing down here, then opened it up to the valley floor. Those two followed and we relished our good luck at deciding to drop over here and not ski the sliver.
Day 2: Turkey Chute
Feeling the fatigue from the previous day and wanting to not totally wreck ourselves before snagging a weather window for a bigger goal on day 3, we decided to dial it back a bit today and ski off of 25 Short. The previous season Mark and I had skied Chute the Moon into Chuter Buck off the same peak so we had some familiarity with the area. Though a short day by Teton standards the line still requires almost 4,000ft of elevation gain, dropping into the opposite side of the mountain and skiing out the valley after. A rest day of sorts we supposed.
Turkey Chute is a pretty well known bread and butter line in the park, but the terrain looked inspiring and we thought we had a good chance of finding good snow there after what we found the previous day. Skinning up 25 Short we took it easy and enjoyed further views than the day prior as clouds lifted and swirled through the peaks.
The top of the line is notorious for being windswept and requiring a short boot down rocks to get into. When we arrived we were psyched to see snow in that section so I ripped skins and started getting ready to drop in from there. I went first and quickly realized that coverage was not as good as it looked and scraped rocks immediately, so I slowed it down and side stepped my way to the top of the good snow. Mark and Ethan followed suit. The couloir was untouched and deep, we high fived and I went first making a quick ski cut and then setting myself up half-way down to get eyes on the other two so they could rip the run top to bottom in one go. And rip it they did, at the bottom we cheered together for the good snow we found and then ripped soft turns out the valley below, back home early to rest for day 3.
Day 3: Middle Teton
It's hard to go skiing in the Tetons and not want some of the action on the tallest peaks in the range. You stare at them all day on the lower elevation lines and they beckon for you to venture further. The previous season I couldn't stop thinking about them, but conditions weren't favorable and we didn't get an opportunity. This year was different and we now had a clear weather window, fresh snow, and the psyche to get up amongst it. The line that seemed like our best choice was the East Face of the Middle Teton, a 50 classic.
We started early in the morning, read a passage from The God of Skiing, and groggily started up the trail by headlamp.
"You are in their shadow now. Even sleeping you can feel the stone. It stands as silent as the giant white jaw of a wolf in the winter, tearing clouds and chewing time. So the day breaks like glass across the Grand. It makes snowflakes out of passing planes."
Skinning above the lower elevation lakes, working our way up steep slopes and firm snow into the valley below Middle Teton, I was stopped dead in my tracks when I heard the strange sound of... people skiing downhill... at 3am. A party was bailing and told us they found wind slabs high in the canyon and were getting out of there. Not one to take any avalanche beta lightly I thanked them for letting us know and waited for Mark and Ethan to catch up so we could decide what to do. Ultimately we decided that it was worth at least skinning up to where they bailed to get some skiing in out the less consequential valley, and maybe go hunting for consolation prizes out there.
At the top of the valley, below the Middle Teton we watched the sun come up and carefully assessed the conditions around us. It was most certainly windy and there was a lot of evidence of snow transport, but we couldn't find much cracking aside from very isolated non-representative terrain features. As we rested and chatted a fast moving group flew by us, without much more than a hello, and continued up Garnet Canyon towards the first piece of steep terrain that we had decided to slow down before committing to.
Curious to see how that went for them I turned and watched as they worked a trail up the slope. No avalanches were kicked off and we took note of that. Before I go further, I'll explain my thinking here. With persistent avalanche problems, one person getting by on a slope without kicking off a slide is very much not an indicator that it's ok to ski and shouldn't be a reason to engage a slope. On this day we were dealing with potential wind slabs which behave much differently than persistent slabs. In this scenario people not kicking something off is far more indicative of what may be going on.
Along with the avalanche concerns another thing we had in our mind was the fact that there was still a cloud hanging around the top of the Middle Teton and the weather we thought was moving out didn't seem to be gone yet. The wind we were experiencing was also concerning because even though things were looking stable down here, that wind could have been wreaking havoc on that peak and an avalanche up there would be absolutely deadly. In short we were losing hope on skiing the Middle today.
That said, we wanted to get high in the valley and get our eyes on terrain for future trips and at least milk as much vertical as we could if we weren't going to be skiing the Middle. So we took turns skinning up that first steep slope, confirming it was in fact glued together and continued up the canyon.
Moving up the canyon Marks condition and lingering problems from sickness were deteriorating and he was falling behind us. While guiding I consider myself to be decently patient, but for those that have skied with me outside of this context they know I can be incredibly inpatient, very much to a fault. I was hollering at Mark to keep it moving while he took photos of the gorgeous sunrise, and my stress built as I felt the sun warming the snow around us. If we had a chance at the East Face, I thought we were losing our window because it was going to be too hot. For the next couple thousand feet I was embarrassingly impatient and short with Mark, which was pretty unfair.
We were now at the base of the Southwest Couloir, our planned ascent to the summit. The sun hadn't hit the couloir yet and it was freezing in there. We transitioned to crampons and began booting. There were no major warning signs that we should turn around at this point. The snow was solid and wind blasted, and the weather wasn't getting worse. There were still clouds on the summit, and we were behind schedule, so our feeling now was that we probably weren't skiing the East Face, but we could at least scrape our way down this Couloir and nab a descent of the mountain anyways. Up to this point a couple more parties had passed us and we were now watching them scrape down the snow above us going for the same alternative we had concluded to.
As we neared the top all the parties above us had now skied down past us, but something magic was happening, the clouds were clearing and we could see the summit. Psyched, Ethan and I started cranking up the home stretch. Mark was just behind us and another party of two caught up to him but were happily following and chatting with him in no rush.
At the summit we had clear skies and views of all the peaks around us, a total turn of events that had me starting to froth hard. I took a second to slow down and remind myself there could still be pretty dangerous conditions on the East Face. I went down off the summit in low angle snow to inspect. I couldn't believe it when I found dry, fresh snow with no evidence of wind loading, and even more than that, 2,000 feet of it leading straight to the valley floor. My frustration with Mark's speed was not only wrong to begin with, but chilling out on our pace put us at the top at exactly the right time.
Mark and the other party met us at the summit. I hugged Mark and told him what it looked like down there and our moods were all elevated. One of the two behind Mark was the local avalanche forecaster and he told me that Garnet canyon is the windiest place in the Tetons and always makes you feel uncomfortable about what you're getting into, but it doesn't always pan out that way.
Those two were fast to transition and we let them go ahead of us as they were definitely more familiar with the area and moving efficiently. I watched as the forecaster arced gorgeous turns on his splitboard down the face and wished I had chosen that mode of travel, my native sliding sport, instead of my skis.
Once we were all clicked in to our skis I dropped first into the hanging snowfield off the summit, a puckering position above a few thousand feet of air to the valley floor. I knew the infamous cliff drop was coming up soon. Atop the short cliff I laughed at how terrifying the exposure was but how actually safe the jump was as it landed you right in a perfect dish of wind sculpted snow. The pocket actually cradled you from falling off the mountain. I shot the air, butt smacked a little bit on the landing and waited for my friends.
From here you side step out of the dish as it forms a steep wind ridge over the face. The two before us stepped out the slope well, but it was starting to dish and make edge hold challenging so it was slow going for all of us, Ethan went first here and got setup above the face.
Below us now was a couple thousand feet of shin deep pow with no crust underneath, I took my first jump turn and laughed in mid air at how much elevation I lost from the steepness of the terrain. This was going to be fun. I picked a line that went on the left side of the face through a chute type feature with some steep chokes and skied out to the top of the glacier, legs pumped, and watched my friends ski down. We all shared our psych and stories from our run and then took turns opening it up down the glacier to the valley below. Perfect pow, and the perfect steepness for fall line turns. Peter Kray's words hung in my mind "...to make short turns is to deny gravity, actively resisting the big empty empty space in your chest pulling you down the hill. ...Every time you traverse you deny some truth of you."
We skied more excellent snow out the valley until we got back to treeline and made the best of the now, very warm, low elevation snow. Back at the car we were psyched and tired and lounged in our sandals in the sun drinking Spindrifts.
Wrapping It Up
We still had one more day in town but we were all not psyched for another early morning and much vertical. We took a car shuttle lap for some shmooey turns out on Teton pass and called it a day. Mark and I both brought instruments with us and played music in the airbnb then cooked up a huge dinner. It was nice to have a chill day to round out the trip before heading back home.
The next morning we packed the vehicles up and hugged each other goodbye. It's always nice to ski with a friend you've, to some degree, grown up skiing with, even though we only met in college. We chatted a little about plans for next year and went on our way. I watched the Tetons disappear out the rearview feeling refreshed after a long hard season of ski guiding and was already thinking of more spring lines to come.
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