The entire NE face of Saddle Peak slid leaving a six foot crown that propagated more than 1000 feet. The layer that failed had formed in mid-December and had persisted until yesterday. Scarier still was the fact that there were “hundreds of tracks” on the slope that slid. Fortunately, no one was buried or injured in the avalanche. For photos check out the GNFAC gallery.

I hadn’t skied Saddle Peak this year. There had been a couple times when my group got to the southern gate and discussed hiking the additional 15 minutes to the top of the peak. Each time I pushed hard to stay in bounds. It wasn’t that I thought the slope was unsafe, it was the fact that I didn’t know how stable the slope was–I hadn’t dug a pit in the area, I didn’t check the avy report, I hadn’t had a chance to gather the necessary information to make a good decision. Thousands of people however headed out the gate and dropped in oblivious to the consequences.

Now I have no problem with people who truly evaluated the conditions and made an informed decision–it is their life and they should be able to take risks they feel are reasonable. A few of those thousand skiers knew that there was a realistic possibility of that slope going and taking their life. However, not everyone in the ass-to-nose line out to Saddle Peak on a powder day was making an informed decision.

I have seen singletons walk out the gate, without a pack (meaning no shovel or probe), and proceed to drop in on Saddle Peak on top of another skier. Each of these decisions is progressively worse. And the last decision not only endangers the the single skier, but those below him as well.

Walking out the gates into the sidecountry make me much more nervous than pure backcountry touring for many reasons.

First, if you have a couple hour skin in front of you, you have a lot of time to ponder the conditions and open your eyes to the consequences of a poor decision. Second, is just the fact that you have more time to study your line and you want to make it count. Easy access inspires a lot of “I think it goes” decisions. Finally, on a full blown tour your group (usually/hopefully) feels alone and you automatically adjust your risk tolerance because you are self reliant. That just doesn’t seem to happen in the sidecountry.

I think as you gain experience you are able to force the mindset. But, you often can’t make up for the lack of information you get when you are out for a tour. Maybe you didn’t get the avy report? You definitely didn’t hear the cracking and woofing as you skinned in. And it is much harder to get your less experienced buddies to stop and dig a pit.

I think that Bridger Bowl has done a fantastic job balancing the risks and opening up some of the gnarliest terrain in the lower 48. Given the current setup, I think the management of Slushman’s is as good as it can be.

But, perhaps there is a constructive (albeit radical) solution to the management and education of sidecountry skiers. Close Slushman’s to the public (leave the lift in for patrol access), but keep the terrain inbounds. This change would force people to look around at the terrain as they skin up. It would make it much more difficult to get in over your head in terms of risk management. And most importantly it would allow people to practice safe backcountry travel in a controlled environment. This would be especially valuable with the recent explosion in the popularity of backcountry touring.

No activity (especially in the backcountry) is without risk, but it comes down to how you evaluate and manage that risk. Risk management is a difficult skill to teach and learn. The only real teacher is experience. I’d like to naively hope the Saddle Peak slide will teach the necessary lesson. At best, people might be a little jittery going out the gates for the rest of this season. But, come next winter the memory will be too distant to matter for most.

Oren and I have been going on Spring Break ski trips for about 5 years. And this one had the best snow by far.

While it sucked to bail, lighting is one of the few factors in the outdoors you have very little control over. It is probably the only nature phenomenon I won’t mess with. In nearly every situation there is gear or skills that will keep you alive. With lighting about all you can do is try to get to a less exposed area, crouch and cross your fingers.

The story has a predictable ending though. As the other group forecast, the storm blew to the south. So we tossed on our ski boots and got in about 1000 feet of turns. It is July, so I can’t complain. Now I just have to figure out how to move to Seattle without bending my right knee…

The approach from the North Fork trail head was a very long skin in. It probably totals about 9 miles into Bear Basin, where we made camp, and another 3 miles to the summit. Other parties we ran into were skinning in from the Beehive Basin Trail Head to climb the peak as a day trip. In hindsight this appears to be the wise choice.

The route is pretty straight forward from the North Fork Trail Head. The trail begins at 7179′ and descends about 100′ in a half mile to intersect a subdivision. Unfortunately, there is no parking allowed at this intersection. The trail is well built for the next mile and half. After two miles a hiking bridge is crossed over the North Fork River. A well blazed trail continues for another mile until it intersects with the Beehive Basin Trail No. 402. It appeared that the skin track to Beehive Basin was actually about a half mile north of the actual trail. The North Fork trail becomes thinly marked at this point. Just follow the river generally north. The key is to round Mt. 9385 on the west side of the river. After this point continue up Bear Basin. The skin track over the divide breaks off well before (half mile) before the charted trail switchbacks up the divide. After that we skied a wonderful 800′ into the Hell Roaring basin and made our way to the base of the climb just right of the prominent rock buttress on the south face.

We skinned the first thousand feet of the climb before throwing our skis on our packs and kicking steps up to a well defined saddle. From the saddle we climbed the east facing snow field to the summit. This was the steepest part of the climb (~50°). The slope mellows a bit to about 35° for the final 200 feet to the summit.

We skied the same line we climbed due to wet slide danger on the south facing bowl.

IV 50° (Class 3 in Summer) (via North Fork)

III 50° (Class 3 in Summer) (via Beehive Basin)

And what a season it was. This was the first season for me where more than half my days were powder days. At least three of my top five best days occurred this season.

Its sad to see the snow go, but there are a few tours left in the season. And climbing season is coming into its prime. Not to mention that melting snow and drying trails mean its time to oil up the chain on my mountain bike.