Backcountry Blues Part One
Each year the hardcore backcountry snow lovers that I call my friends use every possible method within their power to get me to join them on their forays into the Sierra Nevada wilderness. "No," I say, "that's just not for me. I love backpacking – in the Summer – but snowcamping? No way." My preference would be to do multiple laps on the KT-22 lift at Squaw Valley resort in north Lake Tahoe. Yes! Steep, deep turns over and over, loving the adrenaline rush filling my chest as I drop off cornices and carve down chutes on my trusty K2 Fat Bob snowboard. Then straight to Red Dog Saloon for a few cold beers and some stories about the day of riding, all the while warm, toasty, and comfortable.
But this year was different. I was finally convinced (read that as: my friends kept calling me names like soft, weak, etc.), and I decided to join up with seven great men and four willing dogs to do a weekend sojourn up to Ludlow Hut. This rustic backcountry cabin is tucked into the edge of the Sierras near Homewood on the north shore of Lake Tahoe. Was I nervous? You better believe it, what with heavy snow called for on Friday and partial snow showers for Saturday – instinctively I felt that this could be a dangerous endeavour.
After two million emails back and forth between the eight particpants the week leading up to the trip in an effort to finalize food, equipment, and travel logistics, we were on our way early Friday morning. This was despite my continued questioning: "You guys know they're calling for snow on Friday, right?" "Oh yeah, no problem, it's going to be awesome." were the steady replies. And since three of the guys had already been up to Ludlow Hut before, and one of the others on the trip possessed ample experience in backcountry expeditions both in the U.S. and in Canada, I put my fears aside, and said to myself: 'Don't worry, even though it's your first time, these guys know what they're doing, you'll be just fine.' In retrospect, that line of thinking would prove fallible. This was going to be a trip that I would never forget, and I would learn some valuable lessons in the process.
Parking lot 8:30 AM was the supposed meeting time. Try getting eight men and four dogs with all the necessary wares of a backcountry mission of this magnitude in the right place at the right time – it's just not feasible. To top it off add the confusion of fluffy, thick white crystals of snow. It took until the noon hour when we had finally gotten everything together and were loaded up on the trailhead. Only myself and one other were on snowshoes with snowboards strapped to our fifty plus pound backpacks, the others were utilizing splitboards or crosscountry skis. Two of our most hearty veteran chargers sported sleds tied to their packs dragging in unknown quantities of spirits and misceallaneous goods. The snow was relentless and there was already some significant build up on the trail. We saw only one brave soul on the way out, and he remarked: "You're going out to Miller Lake, huh, wow! Well just circumvent Miller Lake and look for the dilapidated buildings, cut right and go up that steep hill and you're there." Great. Hey actually used the word circumvent. It sounded like the kind of help you get in some small Four Corners town from a gas station attendant who looks at you like you have absolutely no chance of making it to your destination, but never the less he gives you some obscure 'turn-left-at the-barking-dog' directions.
Two miles in my watch reads 2:15 PM, and I am doggedly following our most experienced backcountry veteran, who admittedly has never been to Ludlow Hut before, but does have a GPS in his hand, which he continually checks at almost every possible turn in the ever whitening landscape of Evergreens and snow. There is no discernable trail. Our other friend has a topographic map, and the confidence he can find the "needle in the haystack" hut because of his prior trip to the destination. What he failed to mention was the clear skies on the day of that previous march. What he also failed to recognize was that using a topographic map doesn't really help you if: A) there is no obvious trail because of snow build-up B) there is no visibility beyond ten yards and C) there is no way to confirm your heading.
Now it's four o'clock, and we have found Miller Lake, miraculously in my novice opinion. Our group, which had started out split in two parts communicating sarcastically through radio, both in high spirits and making decent progress considering the non-stop snowy conditions, has now melded into one long line of trudging, weary souls. After a confusing powwow at the far side of Miller Lake, we started yet another ascent, this one supposedly our last of the day, with the holy grail of the wood burning stove inside Ludlow Hut our ultimate goal. But soon it was obvious something was wrong. Everywhere we looked through our foggy goggles there seemed to be a hut. Brown wood of the forest stacked in odd shapes had begun to play tricks on our mind. Mild hallucinations set in, and one by one the group called out: "There it is!" Only to realize a moment later that we were stymied again.
Five o'clock. Six o'clock. My fingers are totally numb at this point, and the break neck pace with which I had started the mission had become one painful step after another. The snow storm was only strengthening, and our will was slowly dissapating. Tears came to my eyes as we huddled under some trees in a meadow, and the notion that we might have to "hunker down" for the night became an awful reality.
Our last ditch effort was to send our two most accomplished backcountry men, one with the GPS the other with the topo map out into the snowstorm without their heavy gear with the hope that they could find the hut before dark. But the dusk was setting in and our radios were silent as we tried to keep warm by circling our arms in the air and jumping up and down lightly. Darkness was enveloping the forest around us.
Tune in later this week…for part two of Backcountry Blues.
As always, thanks for reading
ER Harris
~admin
This entry was posted by admin at 10:58 pm and is filed under Adventure, Adventure.
You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
wrote on
It may give things away, but how many fingers are you typing with? Or Toes? Great writing Raphael.
How many fingers are you typing with? or will that give things away? Geat writing Raphael, looking forward to the next chapter.
It may give things away, but how many fingers are you typing with? Or Toes? Great writing Raphael.