Skiing the Gore Range, March 2005

The idea is that we were going to ski into a hut near Aspen. Due to a planning error discovered the morning before our departure (the hut was reserved for February 4-6, not March 4-6), our scheme was derailed. Rather than stay home for a perfectly good weekend, we decided to ski across the Gore Range instead. This was a roughly 15-mile trip from Vail to Silverthorne. We spent three days in the area, using the middle day as a base camp to explore the area. The igloo-type quinzee kept us reasonably warm for the two nights. We skiied in along Gore Creek; the ski out took us over Red Mountain Pass (?) and back through the Willow Creek drainage to Silverthorne. The last day was a bit of an epic due to some misnavigations and other issues. Snow and weather were great.

It looks like not too many people ski this route: one Colorado backcountry book lists short routes on both ends of our trip, but the pass itself is not mentioned.

Themes for the trip: Sintered; Cream-based liqueur.

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Run Slideshow (big images)

Al and Chuck in Boulder.

Kaia's saddlebags include her very own shovel.

Al's classic 210's barely fit under the I-70 Vail Valley bridge.

On the trail headed east...

L-R: probe, wine, shovel.

Check out those wet cows!

We work on the quinzee. It took four of us a couple of hours to build. It was pretty solid and had about 7' of headroom; for all I know, it's still going to be standing months later. Frame is one of 1000+ images I took making a cool timelapse movie of the construction.

Check out those kitchen cabinets! (Soon after this, the fire goes out and we believe we are down to zero matches and zero lighters.)

Chuck assembles wood for the fire.

Strange vegetation in the trees...

Al...

Kaia is expectant.

Steph keeps drinking.

Fueling the future...

OK, the fire gets underway. This was really cool. We just set it up right on the snow. It sank a couple of inches an hour and ended up melting out our kitchen cabinets, but kept us warm for hours. Being on 6' of solid, sintered ice, we judged both the fire and avalanche danger to be mininal.

L-R: Chuck, Steph, Orion.

More of Orion, as Al walks with the headlamp.

We celebrate our patriotism with red, white, and blue. (The latter is due to the LED headlamps. Colors are unretouched.)

The firepit has sunk down a good foot or so over the last few hours, allowing us to assess the historical snow layers beneath.

The cabinets are starting to melt out.

Al crawling into bed.

Check out that headroom! Actually, I probably got a little too enthusiastic about digging out the quinzee's floor during my shift, and must have lowered it a good foot or two. All this did was make it chilly -- at night, nice cool air came in through the door, and warm air rose through the vents up top, giving us a nice steady breeze. We plugged the door the second night; rumor has it that the experts build these things with raised floors for additional warmth.

Vegetation still lives with us inside.

Light filtering in through the (foot-thick!) walls.

Steph like sleeping by herself in the quinzee.

I start the apples going.

Rapid dogs form the local Gore Range have taken over our abandoned campsite. Check out that environmental degradation! (Thankfully, trash causes only aesthetic pollution, and between the goats and the dogs, it was mostly eaten anyhow.)

Kaia draws messages in the snow, visible only from orbit. (Luckily, Al is well-connected to the orbital remote-sensing folks.)

Face by Chuq, nose by Steffi, hair by Hank.

Presence of mammals is detected.

Check out that nice 45 deg slope! Whoa...

Statistics given to us by Chuck indicate that most avalanches catch single men; having a babe along significantly decreases the odds of being caught. Stephanie now has two roles: as supplier of cream-based liqueur, and as safety equipment.

Top of the pass! We crossed at around 12,000', after a couple of misnavigations.

Descending the backside into Silverthorne.

I examine the route from my typical descent position.

'Dude. It's getting late and we're gonna die! Put that camera down!'

Chuck and Steph examine the Keystone map to plan their next descent. By this time it's getting dark, we lost the trail miles ago, the snow is a chunky mess, Kaia's disappeared to chase wildlife, our sandwiches are frozen, and Al's been waiting for us at the Frisco Stop-n-Shop for half the day already.

Chuck starts off the late-night ex-stream skiing component of the trip.

Steph kisses the first sign after miles of unknown.

The stars and lights over Silverthorne accompany us back to the trailhead.

Orion still floats as we pack the car.

Henry Throop

Last modified Thu Apr 21 10:24:49 2005

	Al and Chuck in Boulder.
	Kaia's saddlebags include her very own shovel.
	Al's classic 210's barely fit under the I-70 Vail Valley bridge.

	On the trail headed east...






	L-R: probe, wine, shovel.

	Check out those wet cows!
	We work on the quinzee. It took four of us a couple of hours to build. It was pretty solid and had about 7' of headroom; for all I know, it's still going to be standing months later. Frame is one of 1000+ images I took making a cool timelapse movie of the construction.
	Check out those kitchen cabinets! (Soon after this, the fire goes out and we believe we are down to zero matches and zero lighters.)
	Chuck assembles wood for the fire.
	Strange vegetation in the trees...
	Al...
	Kaia is expectant.
	Steph keeps drinking.

	Fueling the future...
	OK, the fire gets underway. This was really cool. We just set it up right on the snow. It sank a couple of inches an hour and ended up melting out our kitchen cabinets, but kept us warm for hours. Being on 6' of solid, sintered ice, we judged both the fire and avalanche danger to be mininal.







	L-R: Chuck, Steph, Orion.

	More of Orion, as Al walks with the headlamp.



	We celebrate our patriotism with red, white, and blue. (The latter is due to the LED headlamps. Colors are unretouched.)
	The firepit has sunk down a good foot or so over the last few hours, allowing us to assess the historical snow layers beneath.

	The cabinets are starting to melt out.




	Al crawling into bed.

	Check out that headroom! Actually, I probably got a little too enthusiastic about digging out the quinzee's floor during my shift, and must have lowered it a good foot or two. All this did was make it chilly -- at night, nice cool air came in through the door, and warm air rose through the vents up top, giving us a nice steady breeze. We plugged the door the second night; rumor has it that the experts build these things with raised floors for additional warmth.

	Vegetation still lives with us inside.
	Light filtering in through the (foot-thick!) walls.


	Steph like sleeping by herself in the quinzee.
	I start the apples going.



	Rapid dogs form the local Gore Range have taken over our abandoned campsite. Check out that environmental degradation! (Thankfully, trash causes only aesthetic pollution, and between the goats and the dogs, it was mostly eaten anyhow.)




	Kaia draws messages in the snow, visible only from orbit. (Luckily, Al is well-connected to the orbital remote-sensing folks.)




	Face by Chuq, nose by Steffi, hair by Hank.




	Presence of mammals is detected.

	Check out that nice 45 deg slope! Whoa...
	Statistics given to us by Chuck indicate that most avalanches catch single men; having a babe along significantly decreases the odds of being caught. Stephanie now has two roles: as supplier of cream-based liqueur, and as safety equipment.



	Top of the pass! We crossed at around 12,000', after a couple of misnavigations.






	Descending the backside into Silverthorne.


	I examine the route from my typical descent position.
	'Dude. It's getting late and we're gonna die! Put that camera down!'
	Chuck and Steph examine the Keystone map to plan their next descent. By this time it's getting dark, we lost the trail miles ago, the snow is a chunky mess, Kaia's disappeared to chase wildlife, our sandwiches are frozen, and Al's been waiting for us at the Frisco Stop-n-Shop for half the day already.
	Chuck starts off the late-night ex-stream skiing component of the trip.
	Steph kisses the first sign after miles of unknown.
	The stars and lights over Silverthorne accompany us back to the trailhead.
	Orion still floats as we pack the car.