Lassen Peak

'The End of the Road'

SD is our map guy. We count on him to get us there and back. He sends us this one in March for our trip in May. Where are we headed? Lassen Peak, Lassen Volcanic National Park, CA. When are we going? mid-May. Why there? To ski down it, of course.

Our timing for this trip is perfect. Lassen receives two feet of fresh snow the week of and the rangers keep open the North entrance to the park. We finalize logistics over the phone, two days before, and agree to meet "where the plowing stops, at the end of the road."

SD picks up Nate at SAC, who flies in from his home in Denver. EP packs his gear seconds before departure and only makes me wait long enough to finish my beer. He makes up for the delay by driving, of course, and transports us from Tahoe to Reno and safely across the state line into Susanville, CA. We nearly stop at the Pioneer Bar but save it for another time. We whiz past the coniferous forests on Rte. 44 east and arrive at dusk to find SD and Nate hanging out with a quintessential NorCal local, Don Snyder.

Don, an ER doctor in Marysville who drives a VW bus, skied the volcano earlier in the day. He shares beta on conditions and the skinny on camping. "Get up and out early, before the ranger arrives, and it's no problem." Under a blanket of low lying clouds and darkening sky, the five of us share laughter, stories and an appreciation for the mountains we ski. With his charisma, local knowledge and willingness to share it, Don weaves his way into our story.

We've planned for an early start, so we take Don's advice. We camp off the snow but nearby him, his four-legged friend, Chelsea, and his home away from home. As SD climbs into the bed of his truck and Nate tucks himself into his cocoon, EP resuscitates his sleeping pad (EXPED) like he's giving CPR. But before he gets too comfortable, I shoo him away from my sleeping zone. I know his habits. He kindly moves his bag and pad to the other side. On his way, he chimes: "The more in shape I am, the less I snore."

I sleep intermittently through a warm night at 6,ooo ft. From the sounds I hear, I know EP is not in the best shape of his life.

We awake early, brew coffee and scarf down bacon sandwiches. Picking up the rear, which is normally Nate's position, I grab my Praxis Freerides head to the end of the road -- where my friends await and our ski day begins.

Lassen Peak, 10,457 ft., our destination.

Misty Morning Sunrise

Into the mist.

Are we in trouble?

Ridge to the top!

Vista Point...

Don and Chelsea look like ants in the desert.

"Nate, watch the boulders!"

Don and Chelsea about to drop in...

SD spreading the mashed potatoes!

Slow Motion Skiing (no offense, SD)

Even slower: EP --- Got wax?

Got EXPED?

Nate, EP, SD and tt

Rock Creek Canon & Bear Creek Spire

SD is more jazzed than any of us for the trip. He builds a sled and tells his daughter its hers. It's really for the boys' extra sleeping pads and igloo maker -- that's right, an igloo maker. Though designed with good intent, the sled becomes the bane of our existence. It drags us more than we drag it. Irony wins in the end, as we are too tired from pulling the damn thing to build our igloo after all. A crying shame.

On day four, the Sierra surprise storm catches us ill-prepared. Have we a warm igloo to snuggle in, we will not retreat from the 80 mph white-out winds whipping across the frozen lake. Have we an igloo to entertain ourselves, we bag Treasure Peak the next day. Instead, after three nights of snow camping, we (I mean SD and EP) drag the dead weight down Rock Creek Rd. With Superman speed, they arrive at the trailhead a good mile before Nate and me. All of us are ready for a cold beer and a hot tub, which, for record, we find in spades.

SD leaves the shredded sled at the hotel in Mammoth and hopes Shea will forget about it. Underneath, he knows she won't. I hope he prepares an adequate response.

Onward Ho!

SD is not so excited now.

Ski-able Terrain!

Home Base!

"That looks good. The ridge this side of Bear Creek Spire."

Day One. Almost there.

Just around the corner, high above the Owens Valley.

Mt. Gabb

Beneath SD's "Slough" call...

The Cold Before the Storm...

Bear Creek Spire in the Cloud

Cat's Ears and Treasure Peak, those lines that got away...

Retreat!

Bobcats in the Backcountry

It's become a ritual -- our Friday after school sidecountry ski tours. Coop and I have made a healthy habit of it. We leave school shortly after the bell, change at my place, grab a couple pops and head into our backyard. It's just a short drive to the trailhead, after we drop the car at Lunar. We climb to the Peak on the north side. The shadows keep us cool. The sun dips to the west.

We reach the summit and crack a PBR -- our reward. Skins off. Out the ridge. Drop the cornice, snap a few and traverse toward the lake.

The work week washed away by the wet slide.

Lake Tahoe, East Shoe Glass!

PBR Beard Froth...

Down the Hatch!

Into the Blue...

Yonder.

Mt. Tallac (Before a Storm)

We leave the Damn Cafe at nine and head south on 89, uncertain of our destination. We banter about possibilities: Maggie's, Jake's, Echo Lake and Mt. Tallac. With little time to waste, we decide on a plan --- Mt. Tallac it is, nearly 3,500 vertical feet above the lake. The only foreseeable issue: I have never been and SD can only vaguely recollect a previous trip, years before.

We locate the peak as we round Emerald Bay, look out for Spring Creek Rd., the trailhead, and anticipate an adventure with 'potential', given the recent precipitation. We park by the forest service gate, stash the six-er in the snow and head out behind a two gapers and a snow-shoe-er and in front of a couple Tahoe bun-skis (none of whom reached the summit, for the record).

Want to see how our luck turned out? Check out some photos below:

Did a UFO land here? Are those fish scales on the mtns. in the distance?

The incoming storm waits for us to reach the summit. We arrive at the summit of Mt. Tallac just before the clouds --- a landscape photographer's dream...

Where's the skin wax? Gotta love the extra two pounds on SD's skis!

The last leg to the summit.

Boot-packer! Have fun going down.

Dick's Peak in the distance (our next adventure?).

Mt. Tallac Bowl... shredding!

Hands in front so you don't fly away...

Nice turns, SD! It's all down hill, fresh lines and tree-skiing from here...

Squaw Valley, CA, USA

WHITE ROOM!

Powder Puffs!

Chest Deep!

100 inches in three days. Three SNOW DAYS in a row -- No Classes. No School. What else is there to do but head to the hill with my ski buddy, Coop, and camera?

Bobcats in the Backcountry

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We used to have Friday meetings with our previous milksop. Now we have time to make some post-work turns and talk shop on our side-country tours. We call our outings: "Bobcats in the Backcountry" because we that's our mascot.