Terminal Cancer, Police Reform, and The Portal
The journey across the Great Basin began Thursday morning. I departed across the desert sands to meet up with an old flame in Salt Lake City and to see my family of course. On this trip, I decided to make a pit stop in Lamoille Canyon to ski one of the 50 Classic ski descents and the ultimate roadside attraction, Terminal Cancer. Skiing such a line alone felt well within my capabilities. People frown upon skiing in the backcountry alone, it isn’t advisable and should be avoided but I am not opposed to doing it from time to time. It forces you to hone your self-reliance and I think that there is value in being fully responsible for yourself.
I pulled up at the base of Terminal Cancer at about 1 PM, there had been a mix of rain and snow on the drive. I peered up the untracked couloir and could see to the top. I could not believe my luck. I was going to get to ski another one of the 50 Classics in pow. Giddy to get to the base of the couloir where I would poke around in the snow before making my final decision, I hurriedly put my boots on. In that short amount of time, it became a whiteout. Suddenly the enticing couloir was replaced with grey. I walked down the road to see if I could get a glimpse of any wind transporting snow into the aesthetic couloir but the visibility made that impossible, and as I walked back to the car the snow turned to rain. Through gaps in the clouds, I glimpsed roller balls coming off of adjacent slopes.
I knew that since I was alone I should look for an excuse not to ski but I was gifted four of them. Mother Nature can be a direct communicator. Wind, new snow, rapid warming, and avalanche activity, all four red flags in the time it takes to ‘slip’ on a ski boot. I was grateful for my timing and these four horsemen of the apocalypse like signs. I took my boots off, I knew that if I left then I would be able to make it to SLC in time to have dinner with my family. Skiing is the best, it enhances my life and makes me a better person but relationships will always be more important. It’s always hard backing down from a mission but with spooky conditions and the allure of a free meal with my family, I happily drove down Lamoille, stoked to have at least taken the detour and to have experienced the beauty of the canyon for the first time.
After a few days of enjoying the abundance of outdoor activities offered by springtime in the Wasatch, it was time for me to go home to Tahoe. I begrudgingly said good-bye to Kayla, the poetic and intoxicating woman whose allure inspired this journey. The morning of the departure was dark and gloomy and I presumed, without checking the forecast, that today would not be a great day to ski Terminal Cancer. On the way out I stopped at my sister’s house to say goodbye to my niece and my brother-in-law gave me a double espresso while she pilled my arms with an assortment of books and stuffed animals, what a generous 1-year-old. I made one last pit stop at my other sister’s house to say another farewell and take a post-coffee dump, one can never pass up the comfort of a familiar toilet.
On the road, there was an 80 mile an hour crosswind. There were construction cones that littered the highway and a speed limit sign was blowing down the side of the road. My knuckles were white and my hands cramped as a gripped the steering wheel. I topped out 15 miles an hour below the speed limit, the gusts shaking my car violently; I quickly started contemplating the prospect of having stayed home in Tahoe.
I passed a cop that was driving on the shoulder. The cop was pulling over to clear the road of the signs and barriers. I felt super grateful that they were out here for our safety. I then passed a Blue Lives Matter flag that had been erected in the sand. The flag was pulled taught in the forceful wind as if it could rip away at any time. I realized then that the gratitude I felt for the police officers was the first time that I had felt that way in years. I have had good, bad, and terrible interactions with the police and after the death of George Floyd, almost a year ago, I had even reposted Instagrams and typed out the trendy slogan ‘#DefundThePolice’. I still feel strongly that we are in desperate need of criminal justice and police reform, but the dangerous driving conditions were a reminder that police are men and women performing a necessary but dangerous job to provide for their families.
Unfortunately, the chaos did not end there and I passed a semi that had flipped over. I was shaken, but my appreciation for the first responders and the men and women in blue had not wavered. Perhaps now that time has passed we can keep the discussions going about police reform and consider the welfare of those in blue uniforms, we ask them to do too much. I have criticized and been unable to understand folks who are angered by the Black Lives Matter movement yet I have felt the same frustrations from seeing the Blue Lives Matter insignia. These are sad times that innocuous statements have become so divisive.
Quickly into my drive, I had locked away my desire to ski Terminal Cancer. I knew the conditions would not be ideal but as I turned a corner the sun showed and my car no longer shuttered from the gale-force winds. The light gleaned down upon the white-capped Ruby Mountains and I knew that I need to make another pit stop.
At the mouth of the Canyon, I was greeted by a herd of mountain goats who showed no fear of my approaching vehicle. In many of my solo adventures, I encounter goats that seem to be right in my way as if their presence is a reminder that traveling in the mountains should not be done solo. I inched forward until they moved at the last minute, I locked eyes with the alpha, he gave me an aggressive snort to voice his displeasure with my intrusion in their habitat.
The weather and snow were all a go. This time I did not peer up an untracked couloir but one that was covered in moguls. I decided, as a sick joke, to ski it with my 190 cm skis. Before departing an older couple from Idaho stopped by to ask me a few questions. They asked me all the good questions like avalanche safety and if I was going to use an ice ax. I told them you only need an ice ax if you fall and I wasn’t going to fall. They liked that answer. I texted one of my more reliable friends to let her know what trouble I was getting myself into and that she should hear back from me in about 2 and ½ hours.
I got beta from Ali Agee, badass guide with Alpen Glow expeditions, she wore crampons and I am so glad that I took her suggestion. Before the couloir, I was presented with the option of post-holing through rotten snow or booting up through pure ice on a steeper face. The crampons made it a breeze to go up through the ice and I front pointed most of my way up the couloir for a quick ascent. It is so narrow that traversing it seemed a waste of energy. When hiking or skiing it is funny what the mind does. Sometimes time moves slowly and you identify every ache and pain and other times time seems to not exist and its passage, not of any consequence. As I entered the base of the chute my mind seemed to turn off and before I realized it I was at the top and an hour had passed. We call that the flow state, and it is rare. I have chased the elusive feeling by learning about Zen Buddhism but this time it was as if I had entered a portal and my consciousness effortlessly floated to the top with my skis and backpack in tow.
The rock-filled entrance and the moguls down made me wish that I had opted to ski it in pow but the snow was good enough to make some nice turns. The joke of skiing on my 190 CM skis was completely on me and I probably should have gone with a shorter pair but I found my rhythm and even beat my sluff out at the bottom. My legs burned and the descent was more difficult than the hike. I ticked another one off the list but it was more than that. The objective had brought me to a stunning canyon with unique flora and fauna. The granite formations and steep walls made it as beautiful as any national park with a fraction of the people.
I made two mistakes I forgot to grab my climbing helmet and had to boot up to couloir in my ski helmet so I was sweating profusely. A couple was booting up behind me and I could not wait for them because I was too cold from sweating so much. My other blunder was not taking my skins off while I was transitioning to booting. If there had been a change in conditions this would have enabled me to transition more quickly. That day it wasn’t necessary but it is a good habit to be proactive.
I continued to Tahoe. Usually, I drive 5 miles an hour over but I set the cruise control to 5 under. It’s like the tourists that come to visit the lake. On Friday they speed into town going 15 over and by the end of their vacation, they drive out at a leisure pace. There is something about being outside that reminds us that you cannot rush through something and enjoy it at the same time.
