TR Capitol Peak 4/28/08: The Icing on the Birthday Cake
I honestly had no intention of skiing Capitol Peak. I did desire to summit, but still was not necessarily expecting this. Sean, Chris, Pete and Frank had all attempted Capitol before – this was certainly a mountain that required patience and perseverance. My role was innocent bystander, maybe climb up to the end of the knife-edge then wish the boys good fortune, rappel back down the secret couloir and ski the beautiful corn slopes in Pierre Lakes basin until they returned. But here is the real story, at least from my perspective:
4/27/08
The tour into our basecamp 4.5 miles up toward Moon Lakes goes smoothly even though we had a crack of noon start, it is unseasonably cold so the snow is still firm and we skin right from the trailhead. The smooth rhythmic pace of skinning on snow feels much easier on the body compared to hiking up the same dry rocky trails carrying a 60 pound angry midget (quote Don Pedro) on your back. Camp is set in one of the most beautiful places I have ever been, with a direct view of Mt. Daly’s East face, and Capitol well out of sight. Finally, an excuse to use the VE25 I insisted on buying this winter! This being the tent’s maiden voyage, the per night cost is now roughly equivalent to the Ritz-Carlton. Alarms set, I lay down, read for some time, then just turn off the headlamp and close my eyes. I never sleep before these alpine starts, regardless of the peak.
4/28/08
Chris’ iPhone explodes into a latin marimba at 2:30am, sounding like a cruel joke by a bad roommate. Unless I am just going to bed, I am a total bitch at this time in the morning. Chris heroically starts the stove, makes coffee and oatmeal to stir me out of my mood. I packed the night before and slept in my ski clothes, so all I need to do is shove my feet into my still wet but thankfully warm because I slept with them in my sleeping bag boot liners. Fortunately we also pumped enough water last night from the nearby water hole because the filter immediately freezes in the frigid morning temps. Off we go, skinning up the solidly frozen snow to our 1st landmark of the day, one in a million couloir. It is so cold I still wear my puff-ball jacket on the skin up, something I don’t even do in the middle of winter. My bottle of Accelerade turns to slush inside the insulated sleeve on my belt. Pete’s camelback tube is frozen also. Eventually the rising sun lights the sky pink behind us as we reach the couloir, remove our skins, and descend into spectacular Pierre Lakes basin. After traversing a short distance Capitol finally appears, with the seemingly impenetrable cliffs 400ft below the east face. I say to myself “there is no fucking way I’m skiing that.”
Here is where the real climbing begins, I still feel good and stick with my hope of getting up to the summit then downclimbing while the guys ski. We switch to crampons and ice axes to begin the long, steep bootpack to our next destination, the top of secret couloir at the end of Capitol’s infamous knife-edge ridge. Here on the ridge the summit looks so close, I honestly think we will be there in an hour. Here on the ridge, 3 feet in one direction or the other leads to a certain-death fall. At this point Chris and I have a conference to decide whether I will continue or not. I really want to summit but emphatically do not want to ski – but for some reason I still keep the option. The ascent from the top of secret couloir to the summit involves technical climbing on rocks and snow with crampons and ice axes and takes more like 3hrs. Problem is I like the mixed climbing and feel very confident doing so. Frank whimpers when faced with the rock problems, exclaiming “I just want to put my skis on!” I on the other hand keep thinking “this is fun – but how in the hell am I going to get down?” Chris finally puts Frank on belay while I chase Pete who is leading to the summit.
After the initial summit excitement, Chris and I talk about our descent options. I am too scared to ski, but when I seriously consider the challenge of downclimbing what we just ascended, it seems an even worse option. Pete and Frank try their hardest to convince me I can ski it. So I click into my skis and start hyperventilating like our 11 year old lab who hates to ride in the truck. Frank starts skiing, carefully side slipping to cut snow and check conditions before committing to a turn. His attitude changed dramatically once he strapped those boards to his feet! So did mine: “Tables turn and now her turn to cry” – Jagger/Richards. Frank and Pete send down some small sluffs that are of concern to me, but the snow still seems good and they appear to ski confidently (you’ll have to ask them how confident they really were). One is tempted to keep skiing down, down into the snow blanketed basin of Pierre Lakes – yet you know the softly curving slope ends in cliffs. Chris follows next and patiently waits for me to descend while providing encouragement and advice (“a little bit icy here, some rocks there…”). I make 2 turns on the descent before traversing into the top of secret couloir. I am mostly side slipping and using my whippet every few feet to dig into the slope – quite sure it would never actually hold me if it needed to, but somehow using this as a mental crutch to get down. While Pete and Frank set up the rappel at the top of secret couloir, we watch in horror as Chris takes the last traverse too fast, falls and rolls ass over teakettle along the ridge. Another foot and he was either tumbling off the sheer north face or the cheese-grater rocky entrance to the right of secret couloir.
Big sighs of relief as we finally rappel down the narrow entrance of secret couloir to where it widens and we put our skis back on. We now easily triple the number of turns we have made descending to Pierre Lakes, where we pick up some gear we left and stare up in awe at the tracks on the face we just skied above the cliffs. Did we really just ski that? Instead of the usual pumped-up “I just skied from the summit” party-on feeling, I am humbled. “That was completely retarded,” is about all I can say. While proud of my accomplishment and facing my fears I can’t help feeling it is the dumbest thing I have ever done, and that I was just lucky enough to descend without incident. There is really no good reason to ski Capitol Peak in my book – but if you do bring Depends™.
Nevertheless, we return to camp around 6pm, the tequila is the best I’ve ever tasted, the reconstituted dinner the finest meal ever eaten. I never would have made it up or down that mountain without the strength, leadership, and encouragement of Pete, Frank, and of course my husband Chris. I owe it all to you guys, thanks for icing my 40th birthday cake!
-pam
