Eastside Skiing: 1

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Suffice to say, the Eastern Sierra of California (my backyard) easily contains the highest density of easily accessed, big vertical ski descents in the lower 48, and perhaps even North America.  It’s that big.  From Bridgeport to Lone Pine, a distance of 148 miles, the range towers over scenic highway 395, causing many a skier to swerve as they try to drive and eyeball lines at the same time.

Immediately surrounding my town of Mammoth Lakes, the backcountry is so enticing it’s hard to break away and head north or south any considerable distance without feeling an intense desire to stop the car and ski something.  But recently we rallied the motivation and kept driving, all the way to Lone Pine, before turning towards the mountains, finding a dirt road, and ending up at the foot of a granite fortress known as Lone Pine Peak.

Despite having the biggest winter in 25 years, there’s so much granite slab on Lone Pine Peak that it still looks low tide, but closer inspection revealed plenty of snow packed into the east/northeast gully of Inyo Creek.  The idea began organically enough, with a recent driveby en route to the airport in Las Vegas, eyeing it up and thinking it’d be fun to ski one of the canyons pouring off the front of the mountain.  Further internet research revealed a line apparently running all the way to the summit.

My roommate David Scott, and I were joined around the campfire that night by a good friend, John Dittli, who’d apparently been wanting to ski Lone Pine Peak for years.  That’d been his stipulation for coming along with us this far south in the range.  We talked and shared stories over beers around the fire for awhile but called it an early night, with alarms set for 5 a.m.  We had 6500+ feet to go to the top.

The bottom of the canyon presented the challenge of a thin rotten snowpack, and we found ourselves collapsing thigh deep and struggling.  Eventually we got our skis on and they kept us up on the fragile pack after that, but it wasn’t long before we were ditching them again to just boot straight up the gully.

We climbed and climbed and climbed.  No flat rest spots, no lounging in the sun on warm granite.  Just cold steady booting up steep firm snow in the shady gully.  Not until the last 1500 feet or so did we finally reach the sun, and then of course we immediately started sweating profusely.

At no point along the way can you see the summit chute, we only knew it existed from a trip report, and I think Dittli had probably eyed it up before.  Eventually it comes into view, tucked deep into a granite face, fully stuffed with snow.  At the top, you come out of the chute within spitting distance of the summit.  Our first nice flat spot the whole day.  Spreading out on granite and sand, we relax with boots off and contemplate napping.  There isn’t quite time for it though.  If we want to catch this thing in its prime, we’ll have to roll in pretty soon.

The boots go back on, the skins come off our skis, clothing is adjusted, packs tightened, and off we go – one at a time dipping into a fantastic ski line, with turn after turn after turn, for about 5000 feet of good skiing.  Steep and sustained, the skiing is awesome, the snow perfect — for the surfer in me it feels like we’re tucked into a hollow sand bottom low tide barrel, one that’s reeling so close to shore that the only way to make it is to stay in the tube.  You look out at the Owens Valley, and it’s all dry desert out there.

At the bottom, we descend on the opposite side of the creek to avoid a repeat of the post-holing suffer-fest from the morning, but it would not make a good ascent route as it’s loaded with steep loose decomposing granite sand and ball-bearing riddled slabs.  Ok to descend but that’s it.

Yet before long we’re back in our camp chairs, cracking open “hop sodas” and celebrating a very fine day along the Eastside.  Celebrating too, that the fun is not over, there is now the task of deciding what to ski tomorrow.

We decide to go down to Lone Pine, grab pizza at the Pizza Factory, and head north up the road to Independence where we’ll scout out a line for the following day.  Like zombies we stumble around the Pizza Factory, make our orders, eat in silence, stare off into space.  But the food brings us back enough to drive, and soon the widening of eyes and choosing of lines gets us energetic again.

* * *

“It Goes!” Dittli says eagerly, binoculars in hand as we pull alongside his van.  He’s eyeing the East Bowl of Kearsarge Peak.  Beginning with a few sweeping gullies, it all funnels into a tight twisting narrows near the bottom before spitting out to the Onion Valley Road.  Based on what we can see from here, it looks like it mostly goes through the narrows with one dry spot barren of snow.  We setup camp next to creek, under some locust trees, the wind whips around as the day creeps towards sunset, but calms as sunset creeps into dusk.  One question is regarding the weather for the following day.  David Scott calls a friend, Harrison, who’s going to be joining us, and asks him to

look at the weather one more time.  Based on that report, we figure we’ll be alright, but it’s really anyone’s guess as to wind and temperatures.

The following morning, Harrison rolls up as we’re getting ready, and we all caravan up to the base of Kearsarge.  Summit to car skiing this time.  The ascent is uneventful minus an early round of post-holing.  We climb up what appears to be perfect corn yet to soften, remarking many times on how good the skiing is going to be.  The view from the summit is stellar.  The Great Western Divide dominates the western horizon, with a big sweeping line coming off Mt. Brewer.  The tips of Deerhorn Mountain, Standford, Table, Thunder, Junction, University and many others are in view as well.  Lots of snow back there.

From the first turn, it’s corn perfection, the harvest is on—we are reeping.  Whether tele-turning, or alpine, it’s awesome.  A beautiful, rounded gully line, with plenty of room for arcing long and fast on skis.  My leather boots and waxless skis track and glide even better than the previous day, and I can relax a bit more, getting longer stretches of turns before stopping to rest my burning, quaking quads.  Even Dittli, who makes mostly alpine turns on his tele gear, bends his knee for a few nice ones – see photo – proof that Dittli does in fact telemark ski

Looking down from the top of the final section, the scene appears surreal.  Tracks and skiers, now walking to cars parked close in the warm sun with big views of the valley below.  

I also know that I have beers waiting cold under the snow that’ll go quite nicely with flip-flops and a beach chair….

…a slideshow of all the included images…

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