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May 09, 2004

The Fear of Dana

On Thursday night, a few people and I decided to climb Mt. Dana the next day. That night, I could only get a hold of Duece (Aaron), who was set on going. We planned to drive separately up near Tioga Pass where we'd leave one car near the Hydro Power Station in Lee Vining Canyon (where we go Ice Climbing in the winter), and shuttle the other up to just below Tioga Pass where we'd begin our hike. When I woke up on Friday, it seemed a little windy, but I felt good and committed. At the rest stop parking lot at just under 10,000' we met a loan Tele Skier who had also planned to climb Dana. He turned out to be on the Mammoth Mountain Ski Patrol. He had hoped to find others there as well, who could help shuttle him back to his car from the Powerhouse. It is possible to ski Dana and end up where you started, but you lose out on 3-4k of vertical descent. Our plan was to hike over 3000' to the peak of Dana (13,000'+), ski one of the couloirs to a valley below. From the valley we'd climb up to and across the Dana Plateau where we'd ski the Powerhouse Chutes to our lower shuttle car.

Duece and I had brought our splitboards (snowboard that splits into skis for skinning uphill), but hadn't had a whole lot of experience skinning. As we started out, Duece and I immediately ran into our shortcomings. Any time we had to traverse across the fall line, we'd slip, unable to keep an edge. Plus, both of us slipped backwards when things got steep, while our Telemark friend did fine. The wind picked up as we began our ascent. Further up it got steeper and at one point I began to slide backwards. I desperately tried to use my un-gloved fingers as claws as I drove them into the wind buffed snow. Sliding for about 40 feet, I stopped in a precarious position. It took me a while to right myself. I sat there debating what to do. Truth be told, I was a little scared. The wind began to get untenable and I had begun to fall behind. I was short of breath, unable to regain it. The thought of the long ascent, with the fear of sliding, was not appealing. Finally, I decided to unstrap my skis, strap them to my pack, and kick steps up. It bothered me that I was falling behind, but it was all I could do not to turn around and give up. It took me a while longer, with frequent stops to breath, to get to where Duece and the telemarker were at. They were cowering from the wind behind some rocks. It was at this reunion that we discussed the definite possibility that the snow conditions would be bad. You see, the wind isn't just difficult to hike in, it sours the snow, flash freezing it and making it hard, even and difficult to ski on. Even though this was a possibility, no one even offered the idea of turning around, though I know we were all thinking it. Upward we went and the wind just kept howling. I felt more short of breath than i should have been. My muscles began to ache, without rejuvenated when I took frequent breaks. I began to think more and more about turning around, but kept going, step by step.

For much of the hike from this point on a cliff bordered us on the left, making descent on our boards, impossible. Finally, we reached the first skiable chute. The snow didn't look good, but by this point we had committed too much to turn around. This chute didn't look great, so we just kept going. Some ~500' below the summit, we came upon what they decided was the Solstice Couloir. Much of the entrance to this couloir was guarded by an enormous cornice, requiring a 20-30' drop. This was out of the question as the couloir itself was quite steep and we were unsure of the condition of the snow. There were rocks down there. We found one tiny way in requiring a short traverse on a snow ledge 4" wide to a final 4' drop completely perpendicular to the slope. The skier went first. It looked hairy, but he made it. Than Duece went on his toe edge, as he is regular footed. It looked scary, but he too made it. I would have to go in on my heal edge, since I'm goofy footed. As I sat at the edge, I stopped for a while in fear, trying to get the guts to drop. All I could think about was getting out of the horrific wind. Finally, I just went, traversing the couple feet til I was falling. I met the snow quickly on my heel edge which slipped out from under me. The soft corn snow facilitated my sliding quickly down on my butt, trying to dig my heal edge in enough to stop. The heavy corn snow was sloughing off behind me pushing me forward. Every time I thought I was stopping, the slough behind me we increase and push me on. Than, the snow turned hard and I accelerated. Finally, somehow, after barely missing a few large protruding rocks, I was able to stop securely. Other than my hand getting scraped as my glove was nearly ripped from my hands, I was unharmed. It took me a while to regain composure as I was breathing heavily, still stunned. I had slid ~700' feet. I road the rest of the way down tentatively, feeling suddenly unsure of myself. The fear that comes naturally before a trip like this had escalated leaving my head off beat.

At the bottom, we ate snacks quickly in the howling wind. We strapped our boards to our packs and began to hike through a beautiful valley with peaks all around. But the wind quickly made us forget the beauty of where we were. Our snowboards acted like sails. 80mpg gusts would literally take us off our feet. We were force to crouch down time to time and wait for the assault to lessen. At this point, I hoped this final onslaught would be enough to convince everyone to descend, rather than climbing to the plateau. Again, we all might have been thinking about it, but it never came up. We ascended the plateau up a boulder field, trying to maintain balance between rocks as the wind pushed us around. Once at the plateau we switched directions and the wind was at our backs. While this helped, by this point I was losing it. Each step became painful as my muscles cramped. Finally, we reached the powerhouse chutes where we knew the wind would be far less, and it was just a short under 15 minute ride to our cars. I carefully walked to the edge and noted the steepness. It was easily 60 degrees at the start only lessening below 40 degrees some 150 feet below. The entrance to this chute looked only slightly less intimidating than the last one given the hard conditions we expected below. I was getting worried. "I gotta get out of this wind!" Duece exclaimed just before he dropped in. The skier had been closer and saw him just after. I asked how it looked? "Not pretty," he responded. Duece had also slid a little, though not nearly as far. I saw him lower down and the snow looked hard. I told the skier I wasn't sure I was going to do this as my head was still quite messed from slide before. He understood and dropped in. His descend didn't look fun or easy. I decided to definitely turn back. I radioed Duece below to tell him I'd meet them at the upper parking lot, where my truck still was. He agreed. Making that decision was one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make, especially as it was made under duress. It wasn't just that I had to put my ego aside and say it beat me, it was also the thought of having to walk back against the wind. I headed out and immediately the wind picked up. I wasn't sure how far I'd have to cary this sail before I could get to a point sufficiently covered with snow to ride the rest of the way down. As it turns out, it was pretty far. I was forced to crouch on my knees frequently, and I began to posthole to my knees as the snow warmed under the sun. It sounded like a jet engine was passing. I couldn't even hear myself speak. This was not going well. My doubts congealed and I began to concentrate on each step. Finally, I reached a point where I could unstrap my board and ride it down the way we had come up. The rest of the way was not difficult, though physically weakened, I had to stop frequently to rest my calves. The snow ended up turning to good corn. I was still unsteady and unsure of myself, but I knew the way down from here wasn't crazy. Finally I reached the lake just below the parking lot where we had started. I had only to climb a little rise to the road. This final climb became so difficult as I chastised myself for doing this poorly. I was postholing bad now and had to rest every couple steps. Finally, I crested the rise and saw Duece and the cars. We all cheered. Well, they cheered, I was too out of breath.

We sat around and talked for a while, but the wind being still bad, we headed back down the road to The Mobile. We ate their famous bbq chicken, pesto pizza and talked. I apologized for chickening out, but they wouldn't have it. They completely understood and knew that the hike back had probably been harder than the chute itself. Finally, we got in our separate cars and went home.

My head has not been great lately. I am sure this contributed greatly to my performance. I do not regret my decisions and still believe it the right one, but just the fact that I did so poorly on the hike made me feel weak. I was sore all over (still am). My stomach muscles, my quads, my hips, and biceps and triceps, and my scrapes all hurt. As all of these types of experiences, I wouldn't take it back. What I need to do is untwist my head.

See Pictures.

Posted by wonko at May 9, 2004 01:25 AM

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