We woke up this morning to six fresh, fresh inches of powdery snow. After some oats, a dog walk, shoveling the walkways, and starting laundry I was on the mountain by 8:30. I should have considered using the screw shoes, but my excitement had me out the door in the old Saucony Peregrines. The consistency of the NW ridge on Sentinel has been very solid this winter, save for the second to last pitch, with minimal ice and packed snow. The fresh snow did nothing to improve footing as I struggled and often failed to find purchase beneath the powder. A typical time from our front door, up the NW ridge to the summit is in the 28-36 minute range. Breaking trail and losing a few inches with each step had me on top in a sluggish 49 minutes. Once on top i briefley considered my descent options and opted for the less steep and longer route down Hellgate Canyon and the north face. To my surprise and jubilation, no one had chosen this route for an early morning ascent. Six to ten inches of undisturbed powder! Running down a mountain trail with untouched powder has to be what it would feel like to run on clouds. Each step briefley sinking, rebounding, and locating its next plant as you settle into a controlled free fall, giving little concern to anything but the next step. This is fun running, what I did in the backyard and hallways of my home growing up, no Ipod needed, just the sounds of a beating heart and the occasional exultation of joy. When I did pull my head up I gathered a great scene of fog enveloped mountains, ice encrusted trees, and the faint lights of town below. This run was more of a full glass than a taste of what pushes me out the door and up the mountain each day. It was what lies underneath the bad days, the windy ones, with ice, rain and snow, the dark mornings, and tired legs, that hesitation before you turn the handle and open the front door. Running fills my strong urge to move across, up, down, and over what lies underneath me feet. I dont expect eachday to be fun, knowing some will be struggles, testing my fortitude and commitment, but I can expect to be hopeful each time I lace up my shoes, knowing that the unknown is what will make today spectacular.
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| 223 Brooks |
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| Summit looking back down NW ridge |
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| Nearing the icey stretch on NW ridge. Sentinel summit in background |
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| University Mt. from Hellgate Canyon descent. |
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| University and town from lower section of NW ridge. |
We woke up this morning to six fresh, fresh inches of powdery snow. After some oats, a dog walk, shoveling the walkways, and starting laundry I was on the mountain by 8:30. I should have considered using the screw shoes, but my excitement had me out the door in the old Saucony Peregrines. The consistency of the NW ridge on Sentinel has been very solid this winter, save for the second to last pitch, with minimal ice and packed snow. The fresh snow did nothing to improve footing as I struggled and often failed to find purchase beneath the powder. A typical time from our front door, up the NW ridge to the summit is in the 28-36 minute range. Breaking trail and losing a few inches with each step had me on top in a sluggish 49 minutes. Once on top i briefley considered my descent options and opted for the less steep and longer route down Hellgate Canyon and the north face. To my surprise and jubilation, no one had chosen this route for an early morning ascent. Six to ten inches of undisturbed powder! Running down a mountain trail with untouched powder has to be what it would feel like to run on clouds. Each step briefley sinking, rebounding, and locating its next plant as you settle into a controlled free fall, giving little concern to anything but the next step. This is fun running, what I did in the backyard and hallways of my home growing up, no Ipod needed, just the sounds of a beating heart and the occasional exultation of joy. When I did pull my head up I gathered a great scene of fog enveloped mountains, ice encrusted trees, and the faint lights of town below. This run was more of a full glass than a taste of what pushes me out the door and up the mountain each day. It was what lies underneath the bad days, the windy ones, with ice, rain and snow, the dark mornings, and tired legs, that hesitation before you turn the handle and open the front door. Running fills my strong urge to move across, up, down, and over what lies underneath me feet. I dont expect eachday to be fun, knowing some will be struggles, testing my fortitude and commitment, but I can expect to be hopeful each time I lace up my shoes, knowing that the unknown is what will make today spectacular.
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