***
Esha Peak is an inviting mountain. It has a round top, with pinwheel snow chutes that join at the base in a large bowl. It begs to be skied, every time you drive by on 395.
From afar, the chutes look massive, steep, and intimidating. In reality, they are only 38-40 degrees. But your mind refuses to believe it so long as the mountain looms overhead and up valley.
An old friend of Dave's from college, Gregor, called Thursday to ask if we wanted to ski Esha. Dave had been non-stop skiing for 7 weeks (guiding in Europe and Alaska), and I had been letting the conditions determine my sport while he was gone, which meant a lot of skiing on Mt. Shasta and in the Sierra Nevada for me. It was an amazing winter for skiing, and thus has continued as an incredible spring skiing season. So much snow!Both Dave and I had been jonesing to climb, but decided we could take a day off for one last classic Sierra Nevada ski. And to hang out with Gregor, more importantly.
We had a leisurely start on Saturday morning, knowing that with the projected weather forecast for cool temperatures, we would be hard-pressed to find any soft, buttery "corn" snow, warmed by the sun, and lovely for skiing. Upon arrival to the trailhead, we found not only cool temperatures but heinous winds. We suited up quickly and darted across the creek and into the drainage, hoping to get out of the wind.
Out of the wind-tunnel, we were more at peace, but gusts still swirled, and we grew increasingly skeptical about the snow conditions. We took long breaks, hoping if we stalled, the day might warm a bit more and the snow might soften up.
But the winds held steady, and slowly our objective grew closer. The slope kicked up, and we slid on the ski crampons, kept climbing. We traversed to a more easterly-almost-southerly aspect, knowing that would have received the most solar radiation.
Indeed it was softer, but it was only the top inch that had consolidated into nice springtime "corn" snow. Underneath was crummy, old winter snow. We punched through stashes of ice and slush, varying randomly. We kept hoping it might get better, so we kept climbing.
Finally it became apparent that there were no good turns to be had on this mountain today. So we declared it a day to "just be out there." Enjoy the good views, good friends, and the opportunity for a challenge on our skis.And a challenge, it was.
Much lower down in the drainage, however, we found some perfectly buttery corn snow, and savored every turn.Back in the brush, below the snow line, we shimmied back across the log bridge over the roaring creek, past fishermen and day-hikers in tank tops and shorts. Gregor, a top manager at Patagonia, could name each article of Patagonia clothing the hikers were wearing from at least 50 meters away. I was impressed.
A few fishermen stepped out of their idling diesel trucks to ask us if we had just skied that mountain right there.
"No, we skied Esha Peak, just up that drainage."
"Oh, you mean it's further away?"
"Yea, by a few miles and 4,000ft."
"Wow."
We asked them how the fishing was. Only the little guys were biting, apparently. Still too cold to catch anything good. But it was great to be out.
Agreed.
Just as we were getting ready to pull out of our parking spot, another fisherman came over to the window.
"Excuse me, but my friend over there just told me you guys skied a mountain back up in that drainage. Is that true?"
"Yes, Esha Peak. You can see it from 395."
"Really!? So you, like, carried your skis all the way up there and then skied all the way down?"
"Yea, exactly. Not the best snow today, but a beautiful climb."
"Wow, that's amazing. Well, you folks have a good day."
"Thanks, you too."
A bit of perspective after a disappointingly demoralizing ski descent.
At the end of the day, it's all about "just being out there." Skiing, fishing, or hiking.
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