man down
I just returned from our cursed back country ski trip. I had a great time, even though the conditions were not quite as good as I had hoped. I also have sustained an injury resulting in a minor limp.
Here’s the Story:
We left Sacramento at 7:30pm Friday night, after driving 5 hrs from San Luis Obispo and packing last-minute gear. We drove to Costco, where we bought extra batteries for headlamps (we were planning a night hike) and pain killers. We opted to eat pizza there, much to our gastric dismay. After hoping on I-80 east, and driving for about 1 hour, my dad asks me to drive. At this point, my eyes won’t stay open, so Joe (my sister’s fiance) opts to drive. We arrive at the Pacific Crest Trailhead across I-80 from Boreal, and jump out, reering to go. We start to feebly arrange gear when my Dad looks at me and says, “lets just hike tomorrow. We’ll go get a hotel room, crash for the night, wakeup early, and hike then.” We all agree.
Boreal Motel: Booked; we keep driving.
Donner Lake Resort: Vacancy (excellent hotel, very beautiful scenery). Scored a room for the night.
At 6am, we drive into Truckee, fruitlessly search for a good breakfast, and end up at McDonald’s (yes, I said I’d never eat here, but breakfast before a ski trip is my exception. The McGriddles are pretty damn good, too). By 7:30am, we are on the trail. 3 hours of painful hiking, carrying a 40 lb pack (at least), Snowboard, camera, radio, and food, we feast our Eyes on Peter Grubb Hut.
We didn’t have reservations, and were counting on the group that did have reservations to bail, on account of the weather. They didn’t bail. We were going to be out in the snow, in our 2 man tent. Turns out, after interviewing the apparent leader of their trip, Kevin from ktsinnovations.com, that 4 of their party did, infact, cancel; we could sleep inside tonight!
After being accosted by on of their party about how they were paying for reservations and we were not, I was worried about us getting along. Turns out, everyone got along splendidly, and the night was a blast. Joe played hearts with some of the party, I shared dinner and Yerba Mate with some, and everything was okay.
After warming up by the wood burning stove (which I will have in my house when I buy one, someday), we decided to go out skiing; I was stoked, and ready to go. I strapped on my snowshoes, threw my board across my shoulders, put my ski poles in hand (a necessity in back country snowboarding, unless you like walking), and took off.
About 1/4 mile up the ridge line, visibility dropped considerably … and so did I. I didn’t understand what was happening: I tried to lift my right leg, and could only accomplish this feat with great difficulty. Something had happened to my right hip on the hike in, which was causing me incredible pain every time I tried to lift my right leg. At this moment in time, I wasn’t too incredibly bothered by it; I would have to forgo the back country snowboarding I was looking forward to, that is all. But, what I didn’t realize, is that I had a 3 mile hike back to the car, in foul weather, waiting for me the next day. I radioed my Dad, and told him what was happening; he insisted on carrying my snowboard, which I let him do, and we hiked for about 15 more yards. At this point, the pain was steadily increasing, so I opted to turn back.
The visibility at this point was about 30 yards, and falling. Temperatures in the 20s. Winds in the 30s with gusts to the 50s, and I would be skiing alone. My Dad did not like this plan, but I assured him I’d make it back ok. I took my frozen goggles off — they were only decreasing my visibility since they had frozen water on the inside and out — took my snowshoes off, strapped on the board, and began the descent. After about 1/4 mile of rough boarding (very very heavy snow, and low angle slopes), I had another 1/4 mile of walking. I opted to use the ski poles. Finally within earshot, I could hear the other party’s dogs, and was back at the hut; I radioed Dad to share my success. Apparently, I wasn’t missing much; they were about to turn around. After arriving back at the hut, I dosed myself with 600 mg of Motrin, and scoured the place for food.
Night time came, dinner, cards, drinking (yes, the other party brought wine and hard alcohol in Platypus Water Bottles), and finally, sleep. In the morning, due to the foul weather, everyone opted to pack up and leave, instead of taking another back country ski trip. It would have been a better ski-day, as the temperature was in the low 20s that morning, but due to my bum hip, we opted to save the energy for the hike out. Good thing too, because about 1/2 mile from the trailhead, I was hurting badly. Limping with a 40lb pack is a tough thing to do, especially in the snow. By the time I got to the car, I was almost in tears, and desperately in need of the Guiness that was waiting for me.
This was a rough trip, and, due to my messed up hip and high level of fatigue after such a trip, I have cancelled my Joshua Tree get-together with Liam and KK, my friends from Burning Man (it turns out Kevin went to BM this past year, too).
For more pictures from this trip, both editted and uneditted, hop on over to my weak-sauce photo album from this trip.
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