Spring Break Spraycation 2017

For this year's spring break (which will likely be my last for a very long time) I took a leave of absence from the barren wastelands of the Front Range and set sail for the land of milk and honey. I split my time between Driggs and Bozeman, pretty much fishing and skiing as I pleased with my best friends. The first leg of the trip was spent in Driggs, where Eric and I got our asses handed to us on the Henry's Fork and then rebated the East Face of Buck Mountain. Our original plan was to go across the pond and ski the Skillet, but since I live in a place where winter never materialized I was convinced that Jackson Lake wouldn't be frozen enough for safe passage. Turns out I was fucking wrong. 

Me fishing to a 12" riser for half an hour on the HF. Hooked but did not land, "He says you fish poorly."

Our journey up Buck ended up being one of the most straightforward days I have had in the Park, thanks to the try-hards that set the skin track and boot pack up the east ridge. If your not drinking beer at Dornan's by 10 am then you don't deserve to call yourself a Jacksonite. 

Heading towards Buck, photo by Eric (they all are)

The snow was isothermic up to about 10,000 feet and then after that a mostly stable concoction of a trace of new on top of wind-buff (or wind fucked) snow persisted to the summit. Eric an I caught up to one group of 2 in front of us but never managed to catch up to the first group of two that had to do all of the hard boot packing. I guess that's what you get for recreating on the weekends.

The north face of Static in the background as I gain the east ridge of Buck

We left Driggs around 3 or 4 (I can't remember) and gained the summit by around 11, and we were back to the car by noon.

Me clearing the last of the exposed bits on the ridge.

Eric had to go to work the next day so I guess it was good that we finished early enough to grab some pizza back on the Idaho side, behind the Spud Curtain. 

Eric blasting the Jams on our way back to the Death canyon parking lot.

The following day after Buck I slept, tied flies, and did some homework in preparation for heading north to Bozeman to do some fishing on the Madison and then meet up with Jake for some skiing.

Meat muffin

The fishing below Quake was as good as I have seen on the Madison, and I hammered almost 2 dozen on peanut envies in around 5 hours. 

Meat burglar 

It was probably the best streamer bite I have ever had in the bright sun and it lasted from noon until 5. The water was clear yet high enough for most of the fish to be tight on the banks in pretty skinny water. 

Even some rainbows got in on the Meat Monsoon. 

I even caught so many fish on one peanut envy that the articulation point in the middle broke, splitting the fly in two. There was no way it had anything to do with the intoxicated state in which I manufactured that fly. 

Had to switch to a double screamer after my fly busted.

That evening I rolled into Bozeman later than expected due to the fishing conditions, and since Jake (and company) and I hadn't seen each other in a second we had some libations (he much more so than I). By 12:30 we were ready for some toxic dreams and a 5 am departure for Alex Lowe peak.

Looking at the Hellmouth from the Blackmore saddle. 

I had skied the Hellmouth 2x before, and the last time was sub-optimal. It involved me loosing a ski in an avalanche and then spooning all night long under a rock with one of my best male friends. Wasn't really looking to repeat on those fronts. 

Jake sliding down the upper face, shitty coverage as per usual

This foray to Alex Lowe was probably my smoothest yet, and we gained the summit just before noonish. The upper face was thin, the second rappel was clean to ski through, and the lower choke was not filled in, so it was a real mixed bag. 

Jake at the top rap.

For some reason we didn't bring any rock protection, so the last short rappel was sub-optimal. We reasoned that since the rappel was around 10 ft through a narrow choke we could probably splat unscathed into the couloir below.

"Into the Mouth of Hell we March!" Trivium kicks ass.

 The snow inside the chute was mostly soft but very supportable, and the apron below was straight up pow. Like fucking pow bro.

It was dumping pretty hard by the time we got to the apron. 

After our day in Hyalite Jake had to go back to work for the rest of the week, so I slept in and then headed out for a day of fishing on the Madison. 

Olive peanut eater from between the lakes.

It was snowing pretty hard and I fished a little different zone than the previous days adventure but managed some nice streamer fish, again on jigging style patterns like the peanut envy. 

Beefy

The following day I fished the lower Madison down by Three Forks. The original plan was to fish the Missouri by Tosten but thanks to the Jeff the river was blown to smithereens. I mostly fished a triple dungeon of various colors all day (pretty much just a few hours in the afternoon), and got skunked. But it was ok because "I was trophy hunting with streamers". Yeah, never heard that one before. There is no excuse for not catching fish other than you suck at fishing. 

Triple D and a dead sculpin I found

I made back to Bozo in time to enjoy some La Pa with the fam, but Bill was policing my fun and wouldn't let me go bar hopping. So we got some sleep and headed out to ski at Big Sky with Weston. After a solid half day at Big Sky (and I mean fucking solid) we went to a show at the Filler. After taking various drunk people home and to their towed vehicles after the show I got some sleep in preparation for fishing the next day with my sister and John. 

The Sphinx

We decided to float from Mac to Varney, and overall it was tough. We each managed some fish, but I insisted on mostly fishing streamers and with a cold frontal passage throughout the afternoon the fish were not in the mood. It was windy, and if we weren't in John's skiff we would have never made it to the ramp without crying. 

Lobsters of the prairie. 

The next day I drove back to Driggs (after sampling some of the finest Town Pumps in Montana) and then the following day I returned to the Front Range to finish what I started and put a definitive end to my existence as a Callmeradbro.

Memories- Thinking about fishing while fishing on some Colorado Tailwaters

I went and fished the South Platte and the Taylor this past weekend, reflecting on some other times spent waving a fly pole around in the woods.

White dungeon eater on the Platte

I have a terrible memory. I don’t remember the first time I went skiing, or the first time I picked up a fly rod. I don’t remember my first day of high school, or even my first day of college for that matter. Obviously I can’t remember any other important shit I can’t remember. However, we all carry powerful memories throughout the majority of our lives, and it just so happens that many of mine revolve around fishing.

A rather chilly sunrise on the Platte

I can remember the very first fish I hooked on the San Juan below Navajo dam. I was around 10 years old at the time and on a guided fishing trip with the infamous Rusty. All my previous experiences in fishing revolved around the tiny brooks of the Jemez Mountains, where an 8 inch fish was often considered a trophy. Streams like the Rio San Antonio, the East Fork of the Jemez, and the Rio Guadalupe were my original stomping grounds. They were filled to the brim with wild browns that detonated on flies such as my early favorite, the royal stimulator. The very first fish I hooked on the Juan dwarfed anything I has previously had the luck of tangling with, and I can still see the fish to this day as it swam towards the boat, framed by a background of submerged willows in an atmosphere of turquoise clear water. My initial impression of the likely 16 inch hatchery rainbow was that I had somehow managed to entice Free Willy into one of my miniscule offerings, and utter panic took a hold of me as I began to feel the life force of a creature larger than ever experienced. Just as quickly as that fish came into my world it departed with a sizzling downstream run which I could not adjust for. I went on to catch larger fish that day (I don’t really remember but I have the pictures) but for some reason that individual fish always sticks out in my mind as a turning point. It might have been the moment where genuine curiosity began to manifest itself into pure addiction.

A pretty brown from the Taylor

One of my other most vivid memories comes from the second time I fished the Greater Yellowstone ecosystem on a summer trip after the 7^th grade. I had done a fair amount of research prior to the trip, reading about the summer hatches of the famed Madison, Gallatin, and Snake Rivers. One of those bugs that I read about held a certain fascination in my mind. Craig Mathews spoke favorably of the Epeorus genus of Mayflies that had taken up a stronghold in the waters of the Madison around Three Dollar Bridge. What captivated my imagination was the fact that these little pink fellers would often hatch below the surface film of the water and rise to the surface as adults, rather unusual for the noble mayfly.  

Avalanche hole on the Taylor, probably the most hazardous fishing hole that I know of. This thing went full track earlier in the season and ran across the river and up onto the road. Added some good cover to the hole though, making it hard to land fish among the woody debris. 

One evening I was fishing with my father and Jeff downstream of Three Dollar Bridge as a fierce electrical storm of convective nature approached. The afternoon had been slow, but as the wind picked up and the skies turned the ominous shade of black, a pod of fish began working in a current seam behind a large boulder on the river left bank. As my father worked past me towards the truck he noticed that I was hooked up and instructed me to high tail it back once I landed the fish. He didn’t bother to ask what I was using, and I don’t think he noticed the feverish pace at which the browns and bows were annihilating the Epeorus duns before they ever reached the surface. Occasionally a fishes back would break the water like a porpoising great white, but to really see what was going on you had to look through the water column. Down in that watery world, which took on the color of a black sky streaked with lightening, were dozens of fish (giant in my mind at the time) hammering the pink and olive Epeorus emerger patterns that I had procured at Blue Ribbon Flies in West Yellowstone. I hooked and played a couple more before the rain really picked up and then hustled back to the car so I wouldn’t be verbally berated by my father. When I got within eyesight of him he yelled at me to drop my rod (a graphite lightening rod of sorts) for he could see the hair underneath my hat begin to stand due to the build-up of static electricity. Once safely in the car he asked me what the hell I was using, and I began to educate him about the little Pink Alberts that Mr. Mathews had taught me about in his book. I think this memory stands out for a number of reasons, namely the value in preparedness and my overall fascination with the weather as it shapes the forms of recreation that I pursue.

Big Mama on the South Platte

Memories can never be fully trusted, but they serve to remind us of experience, and at the end of the day that is really all that we have. 

Another look at the beast

Greatest Winter ever Done in SKI? A Teton-centric look at winter so far..

Lets take a moment to pause and reflect on the remarkable winter that has transpired. Has it really been as deep as I think it has been? Why has this winter been so fruitful for the interior West? What's all this crap I hear about El Nino and La Nina? Let's try and put some numbers to what the heck is going on.

Looking out over the expanse of the Snake Rivers

First off has it really been good? Let's look at some SNOTEL data to settle that score. Below is a plot of the current SNOTEL snow water equivalent (SWE from here on out) and precipitation for Grand Targhee (elevation 9260 ft).

We can see that the Ghee is currently at 125% of the median SWE value for this date, sitting at about 31 inches of water. However, the highest median value occurs in early May, and that is about 46.4 inches, so we still have a ways to go. It's not like it can just stop snowing and the upper elevations will be fine, but then again it's early February and we are sitting in a good spot. As far as snowfall goes, currently the SNOTEL site has had around 337 inches so our average SWE per storm has been in that 8-10% range, which is pretty typical for Targhee, maybe a bit on the high side with some warmer storms and some atmospheric river events. Where things start to look more interesting is when we investigate the Phillips Bench SNOTEL site (elevation 8200 ft) on the east side of Teton Pass. 

At Phillips Bench we are sitting at 24.4 inches which is 144% percent of the median and only an inch less that the max value for the median which occurs in mid April. So theoretically, if it stopped snowing from now until April and the snow pack didn't melt, we'd be fine. That's pretty ridiculous when we realize that we are only through with the first week of February. Let's look at the Greater Yellowstone ecosystem and see where everyone sits. 

So we can see that with the exception of SW Montana, pretty much everyone is at or above average. Some truly huge numbers are showing up in the Salt River Range and the southern Wind River Range, areas that are heavily favored during periods of strong SW flow that have occurred during the atmospheric river events. The upper Green River basin is looking absolutely stacked for snowfall right now, with many sites recording far greater SWE values than the maximum median value that usually occurs in April or May.

Now even though SWE is almost all that matters for water supply, many skiers just care about inches of snow. We already discussed that Targhee SNOTEL was at 337, but the Chief Joseph plot is only at 325. Over at JHMR, the Raymer plot is at 371 inches and Rendevous summit is at an astounding 411 inches (as of Feb 9th). Now what is average? Well that is hard to say because the ski areas have a way of bull shitting their numbers, but we can say that it is probably close to (or greater than) 480" at 9000 ft at Targhee and closer to 420" at 9000 ft on the JHMR side. Many people have become used to the fact that Targhee gets more snow than Jackson, but this year that is simply not the case. To be fair, the Rendevous plot is at 9580' and the Raymer plot is at 9300', compared to 8800' at Chief Joe, but I don't think a difference of 800 ft can explain 85" of snow. Once again it has to due with the storms we have been getting, a lot of strong SW flow aloft with warmer temperatures. These kinds of storms can completely spill over the Teton crest before the air cools enough to produce precipitation. Since the Tetons are so narrow, the dynamics that drive leeward precipitation are quite a bit different than a range like the Sierra, where we would expect a rain shadow on the leeward side of the mountains.

No soup for you Vail!

Overall I think that it's fair to say that the entire western lower 48 is having a good winter. Places that are a little below average include western Montana, the Idaho Panhandle, and even a few places in western Washington state. Other than that, the Wasatch and Unitas are getting hammered, the Sierras annihilated, the central Cascades pummeled, and even Callmeradbro is sitting around 130% of median SWE. I am still holding out hope for my beloved Bridger Bowl, because all it would take is one 3 footer to put them right back on track.

With great snow comes great responsibility. I remotely triggered this guy from the ridge line on the left.

Why are we getting so many storms? Well the rather simple answer to this question is that the jet stream has been in a favorable position for the last two months or so, and the position of the jet is the main driving factor for the storm tracks we see in the inter-mountain west. Whether storms are generated in the western pacific by Kamchatka, or up near the Aleutian islands, or from atmospheric river events (more on this later) they need to be directed our way via the jet stream. Most meteorologists look at the 300 mb pressure level to see what the jet is up to, and a well organized, strong jet that is positioned around the 43rd parallel is just what we need to replenish the snake river plain convergence zone with moisture.

Current 300mb map used to initialize the NAM

Why has the jet been in such a favorable position so far this winter (excluding November)? Now this is a much harder question to answer and I really don't know, however no one really could have predicted this. In a basic sense the jet arises due to an energy imbalance. The equatorial regions have a surplus of energy (sunlight) and the poles have an energy deficit throughout the winter months. Thus there is a natural tendency for the atmosphere to want to transport energy pole-ward. The jet stream and storms (low pressure systems) serve the purpose of transporting both energy and momentum pole-ward. If we think very basically about the hot high pressure equator trying to transport energy and momentum via winds towards the cold, low pressure poles and then we take the Coriolis effect into account (conservation of angular momentum) we could conceive of how a westerly jet stream could come about. Now of course this is overly simplistic and could therefore be construed as bull shit, but hang with me. All I'm try to say is that there are winters where the jet is too far to the north of the Tetons (too little energy difference) and winters where the jet can split up or go south of the Tetons (too much energy difference). In December, January, and so far in early February we've got that energy difference just freakin' right. Remember too that the jet is constantly changing in magnitude and direction, so I am mostly speaking in a time-averaged sense. So I don't know if it was the warm summer at the mid latitudes, the fact that an anomalous ridge blasted the heat throughout all November, or the fact that a mild la Nina (really a la ninita or something smaller that a tiny la nina) cooled the eastern pacific from the monster el Nino last winter, but it was probably all or none of these factors that led to our current situation.

Massive propagation on a S facing slope.

What's all this crap I'm hearing about atmospheric rivers? Well an atmospheric river is band of moisture that extends from the tropics to western North America. These events can account for over 70% of the total precipitation areas like the Sierras, which sorta explains why it snows like 3 times a year there but dumps 10 feet each time. These events bring "alien-like" air to the mid-latitudes, meaning the air carries a relatively warm temperature and ridiculous amounts of water vapor. Thus these systems are not necessarily baroclinic low pressure systems, and orographics play a dominant role in who gets the precipitation. Atmospheric river events happen each year, but off the top of my head I can think of at least four major events this season which is pretty high for early February.  If an atmospheric river can penetrate into the inter-mountain west, the snake river plane can help channel the flow, dropping copious amounts of SWE in the Snake River Range, the Winds, the Gos Ventre's, and areas of the Wasatch (after California, Oregon and southern Washington get slammed). These events are a large reason as to why this winter has been so ridiculous

Integrated water vapor transport, reeeaaal moist right now

So whats in store for the rest of the winter? Who the fuck knows. After the weekend the GFS is predicting a rather large ridge to set up over the western US. This ridge looks kinda similar to what transpired in November. However, the GFS predicts that the ridge should break down by around the 20th. If that's the case, then we could use a week long break before the snowpocalypse continues, but I don't want to see a month of dry weather. We will just have to see. Right now Teton pass, snake river canyon, and Hoback canyon are all closed due to avalanches. JHMR has been without power since Tuesday due to winds, and they aren't planning to open until Monday the 13th. The god damn roof over Sears collapsed in Jackson due to too much snow. So the week long break should be nice if the rain and warming temps don't flood the place too much. My advice is to take advantage of this winter, because we probably won't see one like it for 10 or more years if this crap continues.

Also I should note that my favorite log ride on Teton pass collapsed due to snowfall, and I've been riding that thing since at least 2010.

A whole lotta this crap has been going on this season...

.

Death Canyon

On Saturday Eric and I toured up Death Canyon to have a looksie at the Apocalypse couloir. When we rolled out of the car at the Death Canyon track there were two other cars with people inside. I should go back and add that when we were near the airport (en route), the supposed temperature was negative 27 degrees, and since Eric's car doesn't have a thermometer we could not confirm or deny that number. However, just after we rolled up the other two cars left and we are guessing it was because they didn't like what they saw on their car thermometers. But who gives a shit about the weather anyways? Not Eric and I.

First view of the lower apocalypse from phelps lake overlook

After I got my boots on and started moving from the car I began to instantly regret my decision to not wear tights underneath my pants. I kept at least one hand balled up in a glove for the first 30 minutes or so, and I skinned all the way into death canyon wearing a puffy to keep my core temperatures up. Turns out negative thirty is fucking cold. Our first view of the chute allowed us to see that it was filled in through the choke, but the ribbon of snow between the ice and rock looked really thin. We would have to wait and see.

Eric getting ready to ascend after digging a pit.

We dug a pit on the skiers left side of the apron, and even though we found some quality shears our ECT yielded zero results. The main hazard seemed to be the spin drift coming off of the walls of Prospector, and there was clear evidence that the chute had been sloughing regularly since the last storm cycle. Just as we prepared to skin towards the mouth a small slough came off from a high point on the alien wall, just like that scene in The Revenant. 

Headed towards the ice flow and the mouth of the couloir.

Once we got to the main ice flow on skiers right we took off our skis and began booting, wary of slough from above. Luckily this face is barely in the sun this time of year, and I'm sure the temps helped to keep things nice and locked up. The booting was mostly supportable, with some funky mixes of shallow slab and hard slough piles thrown in.

Eric leads the way up to the choke after we put on some crampons

When we got to the narrows we decided to call it. The top of the choke looked to be about 160 cm wide from the flow of the ice to the rock wall on the skier's left, and about 100 ft below that their was a 10 inch thick slab of one finger hardness sitting on more water ice. Probably skiable with some tomfoolery, but we weren't looking for too much excitement on this day. We put on our skis and descended around 1 pm, back into the frigid air of lower Death Canyon. 

Eric heading down from our high point.

The skiing on the way down was a variable mix of breakable crust, unbreakable slough slab, and old debris piles that had set up nicely. The apocalypse definitely has some of the most water ice I have seen on the east side of the Tetons. 

Pulling even with Eric on the way down

Once we got back to the apron we had a nice view of the cathedral buttress, where some of the better multi-pitch climbs in the Tetons reside. 

Cathedral buttress. I think the Snaz is in their somewhere...

Even though we didn't get what we were after I was glad to check out a place I have been meaning to come to for quite some time, and I also have to admit that I was psyched to get back to a warm truck.

Eric on the way down the apron.

On the climb back up the moraine by Phelps lake Eric suggested that if I wanted a real treat I should lick my whippet. Turns out I am just as dumb as that kid in the Christmas story and Lloyd Christmas. For I split second I really thought my tongue was going to be stuck, but I pulled hard and fast, leaving a nice coating of skin on the tool. Fool me once Eric, shame on you. 

Lick your whippet he said. It will be fun he said.