Birthday ski.
For our now definitely-annual spring ski tour, Michael and I opted to forgo a third attempt on Silverstar for a less-ambitious tour. Winter is still holding onto the mountains with a pretty tight grip. The forecast didn't look awesome, but the two of us both hold to the mantra, 'You don't know 'til you go.' So we went to check it out.
Looking at the rock in the center foreground gives a hint at how deep the snow was.
Michael confessed to not being much of a cyclist. The only bike he owned was one not really meant for biking asphalt highways. But it did the trick.
I opted for strapping my skis to my bike. For the record I think it was a win. No idea what expression I'm making that Michael captured.
At the road to the trailhead, we transitioned to skis and started skinning. When we reached Cutthroat Lake we took a break. It had been snowing solidly the whole time and I remarked to Michael how I thought the weather wasn't going to break.
I was wrong. It broke. Sort of, meaning we saw some hints of blue sky and it didn't continue to dump snow.
Oh, and that view also during the late summer. Cutthroat Lake can just be seen at the righthand edge of the frame about two thousand feet below.
In that photo above the northern ridge of good ol' Silver Star looms large. The massive summit block was buried in thick clouds further to the right. Of course, the trailhead still wasn't Michael's rig. We thankfully would be able to slide down the road to our bikes. At that point, we made our umpteenth transition for the final leg of this little tour… a quick bike ride mostly downhill on a still-deserted highway.
It was a fun day out. Always a blast with Michael. K had driven to her parents' place in Ellensburg for the day and texted she could pick me up on Michael's way home. Her and I went back to E-burg for dinner with the Keeners and let the kids play a little with the toys there (and S fed the horses!) before heading back home. A proper day for all.
Fun fact: Cosmo and I were there for our autumn holiday in 2020. That view looks different in August (yes, not technically autumn, but K and I were a little busy building our Sprinter van and heading out for 5 weeks in September).
Looking at the rock in the center foreground gives a hint at how deep the snow was.
Back to this past weekend, then… It turns out, Michael's and my birthdays are about a week apart. So this really is a birthday tour. Just no, not that birthday tour. I still haven't done that one. Unfortunately, it's exploded in popularity and now closely resembles skiing at a resort on a weekend.
With the weather and our chosen ski tour, we were guaranteed solitude. Other than a few other cyclists whizzing down the plowed-but-still-closed Highway 20, we didn't see anyone. We had the mountains to ourselves.
Michael showed up Friday evening as it was getting dark at our house. He had escaped the rain of the west side. After chatting a bit with S and K, he and I loaded my gear, jumped in his truck, and headed north to Mazama. We didn't pull of the road until we got to the gate blocking the still-closed state highway that bisects the North Cascades.
We promptly crashed in the back of his wife's Explorer. It was midnight and we'd be up at 4:30 to get ready. The first leg of our tour involved biking up the highway to the snowed-over road leading to the summer trailhead to Cutthroat Pass.
Michael confessed to not being much of a cyclist. The only bike he owned was one not really meant for biking asphalt highways. But it did the trick.
I opted for strapping my skis to my bike. For the record I think it was a win. No idea what expression I'm making that Michael captured.
At the road to the trailhead, we transitioned to skis and started skinning. When we reached Cutthroat Lake we took a break. It had been snowing solidly the whole time and I remarked to Michael how I thought the weather wasn't going to break.
I was wrong. It broke. Sort of, meaning we saw some hints of blue sky and it didn't continue to dump snow.
As I broke trail to the pass, the wind whipped up something fierce and the snow picked up again. We didn't spend long there. Just enough time to scarf down some snacks, whip off our skins, and switch to downhill mode. Time to earn some turns through untouched and surprisingly wonderful snow.
Oh, and that view also during the late summer. Cutthroat Lake can just be seen at the righthand edge of the frame about two thousand feet below.
I stashed my camera for the ski descent. Probably best because as we got lower the snow got, well, crappier. Much crappier. There was definitely some intentional falling to avoid smacking into various trees or careening off into various tree wells. In time, we reached the valley floor and (sigh) skinned our way downhill through sloppy, undulating snow to the trailhead.
In that photo above the northern ridge of good ol' Silver Star looms large. The massive summit block was buried in thick clouds further to the right. Of course, the trailhead still wasn't Michael's rig. We thankfully would be able to slide down the road to our bikes. At that point, we made our umpteenth transition for the final leg of this little tour… a quick bike ride mostly downhill on a still-deserted highway.
