T H E S I E R R A H I G H R O U T E
It had been on my tick list since 1979, soon after Bernie McIllvoy and I had skinned up to the Tablelands in Sequoia National Park and spotted those faint ski tracks trailing east, deeper into the Sierras. I was fairly sure we had stumbled upon the High Route, from what I could cull from Dave Beck’s guidebook to ski touring in the Sierra Nevada. Beck had pioneered it in the mid 1970s, and as word spread and others flocked to ski the passage, its reputation became renowned. And for good reason: Fifty miles of backcountry adventure—two-thirds of that distance above timberline—crossing nine alpine passes, six of them 12,000 feet or higher in elevation. Even today, it is still the most coveted trans-Sierra ski tour.
I was somewhat a newbie skier when I came across the route that spring day in the Tablelands, and seeing firsthand its rugged and lofty trajectory, I realized it was out of my league. This was something you had to work up to. Years passed. My skills improved. But it wasn’t until the winter of ’95 before I truly recouped the interest to do it. And that led to other big challenges: finding partners and working out the logistics. The start and finish of the High Route are on opposite sides of a formidable mountain range. Transportation and shuttling become a major undertaking. And as for finding partners: in the end, it was just me, myself and I. That’s when I grasped that if I really wanted to do this, I needed to consider other options—like a guide service.
I had never been guided up or across anything before. Never felt that I needed it. But the High Route was different. It was all about logistics. And after some research, I found an outfit that had it wired: Alpine Skills International. They had guided parties on the route for years, and the secret to their success was impeccable planning. ASI would take a dozen clients and split them into two groups—an East-West party, and a West-East party—and each would start the route on the same day, but from opposite ends. Before the start of the trip, each client was matched with a “car swap” partner from the other group. I was assigned to the East-West party, and on my drive up to Independence, I first diverted to Mojave and swapped cars with a guy on the West-East party. He drove my car to Sequoia. I drove his to Independence. When the two groups met in the middle of the Sierras on the third night of the trip, we exchanged car keys. My ride home was waiting for me when I got out. As for my one and only experience with a guide service: it was very good. In fact, I learned some tricks for ultra-light ski touring. The guides were wonderful—and diplomatically patient with one obnoxious client (no, it wasn’t me). We had glorious spring weather the entire way. Who could ask for more?
Sierra High Route, 1995: Day One. From the Symmes Creek trailhead, it’s a seven-mile slog up to Anvil Camp, an elevation gain of 4,200 feet. We hauled the skis for most of that distance. It was a gut-buster, but we got the toughest day of the trip behind us right away.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: Day Two. In the morning, we had another 2,000 feet of elevation to gain. Here, ice axes are out for the final stretch up to Shepherd Pass.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: Standing on Shepherd Pass, elevation 12,000 feet. From here, we donned skis and glided down to the headwaters of the Kern River (in the distant trees behind my head). We camped there for our second night. In the morning, we would ski up towards Milestone Peak (rock pinnacle on skyline at far right) and ascend over Milestone Col.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: ASI guide, Jon Shoop, skis down through the trees along the Kern headwaters. Jon and I were tent mates for four nights and we got along grand. I learned a heap from him on fast-and-light touring. The night before we departed, he went through everyone’s packs, vetoing several frivolous articles that added needless weight. “No frills,” he warned. Fortunately he didn't find my flask of brandy—and he also had no qualms partaking in libations with me each evening.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: Day Three. Ice axes come out again for the precipitous traverse over Milestone Col. At 13,000 feet, this is the highest point on the High Route.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: This is Carl, a doctor from Connecticut, skiing down the big slopes on the other side of Milestone Col. He traveled the furthest to come on this trip.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: The Kaweahs brood in the clouds during the long run down from Milestone Col.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: Jon and I hang out in front of our abode, soaking up the stunning views of the Kaweah basin. We rendezvoused here with the West-East party for our third night, exchanging car keys and celebrating together merrily. It's the midway point of the High Route: about 25 miles to the roadhead in either direction. In the morning, our group would continue westward, while the others would head east.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: Day Four. The majestic Kaweahs greet us in the morning as we ski through Colby Pass. Colby was the first of four 12,000-foot passes that we would cross on this day.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: Jon Shoop at work on a flawless spring day.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: The group takes a break atop Triple Divide Pass to strip off climbing skins. Though most of the day was spent traversing high along the divide, each of the four passes that we crossed offered short but sweet downhill runs.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: Assistant guide, Glen Norris, leads the way into the bowl below Coppermine Pass, our fourth and final 12,000-foot pass of the day. We then skied across the slopes in the background and camped near the rocky buttress in far right of photo.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: Day Five. Pausing to regroup near Pear Lake Ski Hut. By now, our packs were light and we were lean, totally acclimatized and descending. We skied ten miles in the morning to get to Pear Lake, where we dropped our packs and skinned back up into the high bowls for a few rollicking runs. Then we hoisted our gear and hit the trail again. Only six miles remained.
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Sierra High Route, 1995: Skiing across “The Hump” above Heather Lake. From here it’s a five-mile descent through increasingly-dense woods, until suddenly you burst out of the trees and into the Wolverton trailhead parking lot. Thus is the final opus of the Sierra High Route.
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E P I L O G
San Jacinto Peak, 1996: Michael Katusian and I stand above the North Face, contemplating the inevitable.
This photo is the last that I have from my backcountry forays. After the High Route trip, I pretty much stowed my gear away for good. Occasionally, in big snow years, when the calling was impossible to ignore, I’d brush the cobwebs off my purple Ramer randonnee skis and set out for the local mountains. I once did solo descents of San Gorgonio and Jepson on a Memorial Day weekend, carving down perfect corn snow. Nevertheless, you could count on one hand the times that I strapped on the boards.
I sold those old Ramers on Craig’s List in 2008. They had been sitting neglected in my garage in Redlands for almost a decade, collecting dust and a colony of black widows. I didn’t get much for them. The bindings were ancient. Their true value lay in the memories that I collected while skiing on them… and I got to keep those.
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