We arrived in the Mt. Baker parking lot just before the sun rose into the mountains. Days before the winter solstice—nearing the shortest of the year—our plan was to hike and ski the White Salmon Glacier on 9,127-foot Mt. Shuksan in Washington’s North Cascades. We had time, headlamps, and temps that made backcountry travel and avalanche danger minimal.
Skinning right from the car, skier Zack Giffin, split boarder and righteous proprietor of local knowledge, Ben Price, and I moved towards the steep, cliff-shrouded lines between the peak, the glacier, and the mountain’s massive base. Zack had admired this terrain for nearly a decade, Ben had skied a few lines before, and I was the newbie, here to learn the ways of the North Cascades. An ideal trio of sentiments: motivated, confident, and humble.
We skied low elevation crusts en route to the ascent. Through trees, creeks, and up Cascadian cliff bands, we climbed toward the bottom of the glacier to evaluate conditions relative to our lightweight gear—we packed only ice axes, rope, and snacks.
Insignificance engulfed us. Humans on a glacier are like ants on a picnic table—thankfully we avoided getting smashed on our way to our goal. After a few moments at the top, looking out across massive crevasses that seem to open a portal to another world, we dropped into the crux one at a time. First Ben, then me, and lastly Zack. I followed Ben’s tracks, cresting the first steep pitch on icy snow.
On the infrequent days that you can see Mt. Shuksan from a ski area lift across the valley, the path we skied typically ended in a large pile of avalanche debris or falling pieces of the Hanging Glacier. But snow conditions were favorable and as we entered the couloir, the wind blew a sparkly confetti of snow. Despite the relative stability, we moved quickly, regrouping as the couloir doglegged, and preparing for an icy traverse where the focal concern shifted to cliffs. Large cliffs, on skier’s left.
Ben dropped across 4,000 vertical feet of alpenglow-lit glory pow, his sluff following him toward the bottom. Just a speck on the map, I glimpsed him below as I began my traverse energized by the warm light and emotionally overwhelmed by what lay beneath my skis. The longest run of my life. I barely hesitated, but mid-run I took note of the monstrosity behind and the more manageable slope up ahead.
Exhausted, happy, anxious, and relieved, I turned near the bottom just in time to watch Zack initiate his first fast, precise arcs down Mt. Shuksan. It was as spectacular to witness his turns as it had been to execute the same ones myself, just minutes before. We moved out of the danger zone just as the sun’s rays weakened behind the mountain.
By the time we returned to the parking lot Shuksan’s silhouette loomed in the background. Though I rarely drink beer, I grabbed the first I.P.A. I could get my hands on and sipped. I toasted the day I’d casually noted to friends that skiing the Northwest Couloir this season would leave me feeling overwhelmingly accomplished. Beer tastes good with achievement.
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When she’s not blogging for Women’s Adventure, writer and professional skier Molly Baker is likely shredding snowy wonderlands in the Pacific Northwest and posing for some of the industry’s best action photographers. She also contributes to ESPN Freeskiing, The Ski Journal, and Skiing Magazine.
