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.