Spider Mountain, Arachnophobia
Posted: Thu Dec 08, 2011 5:05 am
Spider is one of those mythical mountains that Cascadian ski mountaineers always mention as an objective. Martin Volken and Peter Avolio opened the door in 2003 with a line they dubbed Arachnophobia, and Sky, Ben Kaufman, and Dave Coleman skied a line to the lookers right three years later in the epitome of SDS style (Ski du Sjue). I don’t know of anyone skiing it since, although I know of several – myself included-- who have tried. When I texted Eric about it in a moment of drunken celebration last week he replied with one word: “interesting”. Which is what most people who ski around here might say. But I’ve learned that E$ + interest = $$$$$, so I sent out a group email late Thursday night. A few days and 500 or so emails later, five of us sat cramped together watching the good Doctor frantically try to keep our rented and uninsured minivan on the icy road while he simultaneously tried to understand the flashing red light on the dashboard alerting him to the fact that the road was slippery.
The ride:
I’m not one to travel in large groups, so a group of 6 took getting used to. But you can get a feel for a group’s dynamics based upon the various “blue blankies” people bring. A “blue blankie” is what I call those non-negotiable but not necessarily necessary items that we bring to provide us whatever comforts we need to do what we do. In our group, among down booties, sushi, tofu, coffee and tea, we’d also managed to squeeze into our packs a bottle of Wild Turkey, some Macallan scotch, 2 varieties of pot, hash, tobacco, advil, and aleve. I knew from the start that I was in good company.
Shortly after sampling the inventory I had that epiphany that happens in all true adventures. It’s that moment when you become aware that, despite your best intentions, you don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into.
We parked at around mile 17 and made quick work of the road slog. Along the way we helped unstick the subie of a couple who were setting out to try Eldorado. (We were happy to see that their car was gone by the time we returned on Sunday night) We skinned all but a short section to Cascade Pass, and then dropped down into the basin before climbing directly up to Cache Col. No one among us wanted to traverse mix-up arm. We set up a bivy about 800’ feet below the col, just as the sun set.
Mixup Arm (photo by $):
To our great pleasure, Dan managed to show up just as we were sitting down to melt snow. He’d left his inhaler in his truck and had to jog the 6 miles back to his truck to retrieve it. On the uphill return he managed to hitch a ride to within a mile of where we had parked the minivan. Dan was the group blue blankie. His smiling face and new orange puffy had us all in great spirits as we climbed into our sacks. I closed my eyes to Sahale and stars, sickle shaped Monika moon eyes, and the awareness that I’m blessed to have the friends that I do.
We decided we wanted to be at Art’s knoll at sunrise so we upped ourselves at 3 and left camp around 5. One of the highlights of the trip, for me, came during the descent from Cache Col to Art’s Knoll. Doing a beacon check in the dark is exhilarating. Skiing powder by headlamp is exhilarating. Skiing powder before sunrise on the south side of Cache col, by head and starlight, pausing and watching the light show that were my friends weaving back and forth through fall line towards an unseen bottom- that was something I’ll not soon forget.
Our first view of Spider gave us all reason to pause (Photo by Dan):
We all agreed to climb up directly beneath Arachnophobia and didn’t bother with trying to skin. Conditions were firm. At the Bergschrund I almost pulled the plug. Different days bring with them different boundaries and I’ve learned to respect the variability of my comfort zone. The others echoed my sentiments, but decided to climb a bit higher to see if conditions improved. They did and they did, so I did too. Thanks boys for the hand holding.
It’s been awhile since I’ve been on something so freaking unreal. Make no mistake- the north face of Spider is the real unreal deal (photo by Drew):
A few hundred feet from the top conditions become too challenging for any in our group to link turns. I’ve been a part of my fair share of sides stepping shit show processions and wanted no part of another one, so I decided to start down while the others topped out. Pete liked the idea and joined me. We chopped out a platform at the first spot we could envision making turns and transitioned. There’s nothing like that first turn, when the tips swing across fall line, the edges catch, the muscles respond, and movement stops. Nothing, that is, except 500 or so just like it in immediate succession. Steep skiing engages. ‘Nuff said.
Pete and I (mostly Pete) put a track back up to the Knoll and then Cache Col. Along the way we watched the December sun set reds pinks, oranges and greens over one of the most majestic landscapes I’ve ever seen. I love Washington.
My favorite nomadic mountain monk:
Thanks Eric, Pete, Dan, Drew, and Antonio. This was one to remember.
(and we missed you Sky!)
The ride:
Shortly after sampling the inventory I had that epiphany that happens in all true adventures. It’s that moment when you become aware that, despite your best intentions, you don’t really know what you’re getting yourself into.
Mixup Arm (photo by $):
To our great pleasure, Dan managed to show up just as we were sitting down to melt snow. He’d left his inhaler in his truck and had to jog the 6 miles back to his truck to retrieve it. On the uphill return he managed to hitch a ride to within a mile of where we had parked the minivan. Dan was the group blue blankie. His smiling face and new orange puffy had us all in great spirits as we climbed into our sacks. I closed my eyes to Sahale and stars, sickle shaped Monika moon eyes, and the awareness that I’m blessed to have the friends that I do.
We decided we wanted to be at Art’s knoll at sunrise so we upped ourselves at 3 and left camp around 5. One of the highlights of the trip, for me, came during the descent from Cache Col to Art’s Knoll. Doing a beacon check in the dark is exhilarating. Skiing powder by headlamp is exhilarating. Skiing powder before sunrise on the south side of Cache col, by head and starlight, pausing and watching the light show that were my friends weaving back and forth through fall line towards an unseen bottom- that was something I’ll not soon forget.
Our first view of Spider gave us all reason to pause (Photo by Dan):
We all agreed to climb up directly beneath Arachnophobia and didn’t bother with trying to skin. Conditions were firm. At the Bergschrund I almost pulled the plug. Different days bring with them different boundaries and I’ve learned to respect the variability of my comfort zone. The others echoed my sentiments, but decided to climb a bit higher to see if conditions improved. They did and they did, so I did too. Thanks boys for the hand holding.
It’s been awhile since I’ve been on something so freaking unreal. Make no mistake- the north face of Spider is the real unreal deal (photo by Drew):
A few hundred feet from the top conditions become too challenging for any in our group to link turns. I’ve been a part of my fair share of sides stepping shit show processions and wanted no part of another one, so I decided to start down while the others topped out. Pete liked the idea and joined me. We chopped out a platform at the first spot we could envision making turns and transitioned. There’s nothing like that first turn, when the tips swing across fall line, the edges catch, the muscles respond, and movement stops. Nothing, that is, except 500 or so just like it in immediate succession. Steep skiing engages. ‘Nuff said.
Pete and I (mostly Pete) put a track back up to the Knoll and then Cache Col. Along the way we watched the December sun set reds pinks, oranges and greens over one of the most majestic landscapes I’ve ever seen. I love Washington.
(and we missed you Sky!)
