Backcountry Skiing - Part 3

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This third installment picks up where I left off with the old ski pics posted last winter.  After scanning this batch, the first thing I noticed was the spontaneity and action in many of the images, something that the first two parts of Backcountry Skiing had lacked for the most part.  This is due to me switching from a bulky Pentax SLR camera to a waterproof Canon 35mm instamatic that was half the size and one-third the weight.  I usually skied with the Pentax stowed in my daypack for the downhill runs, stopping to pull it out to snap a picture.  But with the Canon, I was able to sling it around my neck: just aim and shoot at the right opportunity.  Nothing like catching the fun on film. 

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San Gorgonio Wilderness, 1991:  Steve Johnson and Michael Katusian pose for a quick photo at Dollar Lake before the downhill fun begins.

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San Gorgonio Wilderness, 1991:  This is what I call a serious case of climbing skins icing up. 

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San Jacinto Peak, 1992:  Summiting San Jac on an immaculate winter day.  San Gorgonio Peak is in the background. 
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San Jacinto Peak, 1992:  Michael Katusian drops onto the foreboding North Face.     

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Below Miller Peak, San Jacinto Mtns, 1992:  Not only is Michael a great skier, he has a fabulous sense of humor.

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Sawtooth Ridge, Sierra Nevada, 1992:  Michael lounges in the sublime below Matterhorn Peak.  I remember this trip well.  We were jetting up 395 on a Friday night in April, amped up for some spring skiing in the High Sierra.  At Brady’s Outpost, we stopped for coffee, and inside we found the locals huddled around the radio.  “They’re rioting in L.A.!” one of them declared.  Earlier that day, a jury had found the policemen who had beat Rodney King to be innocent, and unbeknown to us, all hell had broken loose.  By the time we reached Bridgeport early the next morning, there was a run on ammo at the sporting goods store—Los Angeles was in flames and everyone up there was expecting a full-fledged race war.  That was the tone of things when Michael and I hiked into the backcountry for a few days of skiing, not knowing how events would play out down south.  It was very sureal.    

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Sawtooth Ridge, Sierra Nevada, 1992:  A lone skier passing through snapped this photo of Michael and me.  He was the only person we saw during our four days in the backcountry.  Michael asked him if L.A. was still burning, and he said: “Yep.”

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Sawtooth Ridge, Sierra Nevada, 1992:  Carving a good line near Matterhorn Peak. Sierra skiing doesn’t get any better than this.  I took a wild spill near the end of this day.  No problem: I stood up; popped back into my bindings; prepared to continue down… Then I noticed the blood all over the snow.  Turned out, I’d bounced off a rock on the way down, and a sharp corner had sliced my right elbow open cleaner than a scalpel.  Michael the Medic skied over and closed it up with a couple of butterfly clamps, and I was good to go for another two days.  However, when I got home, the wound was looking pretty scary, prompting a trip to the doctor.  It was badly infected. 

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Sawtooth Ridge, Sierra Nevada, 1992:  Catching some air time.   ______________________________________________________

 

Sawtooth Ridge, Sierra Nevada, 1992:  Goodnight, Michael.

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San Jacinto Peak, 1993:  A winter wonderland.  If I recall, this is how I spent Superbowl Sunday.

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San Jacinto Peak, 1993:  Seve Johnson summiting in a whiteout.

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Poopout Hill, San Gorgonio Wilderness, 1993:  My daughter Allison was 2½ years old when I took her skiing the first time.  I would ski up the unplowed road to Poopout Hill.  She liked it—though when she got to be a teenager, she took up snowboarding.  Hmm. 

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Peak 10,400, San Gorgonio Wilderness, 1993:  The San G Wilderness became my backyard playground in the winter, the trailhead just 25 minutes from my house.  I was up there most Saturdays, many times solo, exploring new terrain, the steeper the better.  My favorite “secret place” was Peak 10,400, where the reward was a sustained, 3,000-foot descent through the trees, all the way back down to Horse Meadows.  Because of all the tree coverage and north-facing slopes, the powder always held up in there.  And I never came across old ski tracks of other parties.  It was all mine.
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Below Charlton Peak, San Gorgonio Wilderness, 1993:  Michael cruises down from Little Draw. ______________________________________________________

Below Peak 10,400, San Gorgonio Wilderness, 1993:  Steve begins the awesome 3,000-foot descent.  So many ski runs, and so little time.
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TO BE CONTINUED...