Feather Peak

You're only a virgin once so we had to go big. Especially considering the man of the hour. The task at hand was taking World Cup champion turned freeskier Daron Rahlves out on his first ever overnight backcountry ski trip. Daron had skied in the Sierra backcountry around his home mountain of Sugar Bowl in Lake Tahoe, California, but he had never been winter camping nor had he explored the towering peaks of the High Sierra. Here was the perfect opportunity to skip him ahead a few steps on the learning curve. We had stable snow, great weather and an amazing crew ready to go. Now all we needed was a worthy destination to pop Darons' backcountry cherry.

The classic North Couloir of Feather Peak 4,036 meters, outside of Mammoth, California was just the pretty lady we were looking for. "Click"... on went the headlamps. We had planned to be at camp before dark but that wasn't happening. We still had another kilometer to ski before reaching an ideal camp location at Pine Lake. Our late arrival at camp wasn't for lack of effort. That cold and crisp January day we had driven four hours from Lake Tahoe to Mammoth, gotten loaded up at the trailhead and shouldered our overnight packs for a five kilometers climb up the steep Pine Creek drainage. We'd been punching it from dawn to dark. Despite the dropping temperatures everyone was in good spirits for the final push.

Daron's climbing skins had been giving him trouble, making his effort twice as hard, but he kept chugging along, no doubt feeding off the energy of our experienced crew. Along for the ride here legendary big mountain snowboarder Jeremy Jones, cinematographer Chris Edmands, photographer Canyon Florey and myself. Unlike Daron, the rest of us had spent literally months out in the winter wilderness so we had full confidence that we would find a good camp at Pine Lake. It was just a matter of getting there. "That was quite the mental fight," admitted Daron as we finally got to camp and set up the tents. "Climbing was a lot harder than I expected. I was pretty worked an hour ago."

I had to smile hearing that from the man with a mantle full of Hahnenkamm trophies. This was exactly why we had chosen a mountain in the heart of the High Sierra. The North Couloir of Feather Peak was no roadside attraction. To ski the line required a more than 1,800 meters climb over 10.5 kilometers an honest effort no matter how fast or strong of a skier you were. None of us had ever skied Feather Peak so there was also a keen sense of adventure in the air. We were all united in the glorious struggle to explore terrain we had never seen. After a warm meal and a few minutes talking around a small fire we headed to bed. The plan was to rise at dawn and make a push for the North Couloir.

"Were you guys cold last night?", asked Daron as we gathered for breakfast the next morning. Everyone nodded in unison. Chris spoke up saying his watch thermometer had read minus 15 degrees when he woke up. Though not unheard of, temperatures this cold are rare in the Sierra. Darons' first night out winter camping had been a doozy. The cold night was a good sign however. The dawn rose clear and bright, not a cloud in the sky. We got on the trail just as the sun lit our route across the lake. The breathtaking views of the surrounding peaks drew our attention, and the 30 centimeters of powder snow underfoot quickened our pace. The faster we climbed the sooner we would get to ski.

From our camp at 3,000 meters we had about 1,000 meters to climb over the next five kilometers. Other than one pass, the route wouldn't be that steep until the final 400 meters when we would ascend the 45 degree pitch of the North Couloir. The bigger challenge would be routefinding through the rolling lake basins. With five people to break trail we had ample energy for the effort though. Daron took the lead early on and pulled us over several humps like he had been touring for years. At the top of "Co Co La-Pass" we crested above treeline and Feather Peak finally came into view. The North Couloir hung like a spectacular frozen neck tie on the right side of the massive granite face.

It was undoubtedly the choice line of the cirque and the only pitch diving straight off the Sierra crest. After a quick lunch we jumped back on task. Daron must have gulped down a couple Red Bull during the break as he charged ahead. He ended up breaking trail across two huge basins straight to the base of the North Couloir. Next thing we knew we were all staring straight up at the line. Climbing skins got traded out for crampons as the pitch steepened. With our boards on our backs we gained ground quickly and thankfully so. Time was of the essence. We had less than an hour of daylight left! With glowing smiles we topped out on the couloir just as the sun set. A short exposed rock scramble delivered us onto the true summit.

"The more immersed you get in the mountains the richer the feeling," said Jeremy as we soaked in the summit scenery. His words rang true in every direction you looked. We were rich men standing atop this rarefied High Sierra perch. With the light fading fast we ran back to drop into the couloir. The turns off the top were steep and sweet, though a tad dark. Having climbed up we knew there was nothing in the falline to worry about however, so nearing the apron all of us made wide open pow turns with our eyes closed. These blind turns were surreal; we were flying down the mountain by feel alone. Regrouping in the basin we clicked on our headlamps and began the two hour tour back to camp. All of us slept better that night and woke up with the sun.

There was some talk of heading home but Jeremy had other plans for us. We climbed an improbable couloir right above camp that held multiple rock bands requiring vertical moves on the way up and mandatory airs on the way down. The snow wasn't quite as prime but the terrain was amazing. The run was a huge bonus on an already stellar mission. Packing up to head out Daron began reflecting on the trip. "I really enjoy climbing up what you ski down", said Daron. "I used to do that at some of my favorite races. I would climb up from the finish area at night. This was the one moment I could connect with the course with no one else around." "I also thought the trip would be a lot more mellow", Daron continued.

"We've climbed and skied way more gnarly stuff than I imagined. Even getting to camp was tough. But I would do it all again. The trip exceeded my expectations and the reward was definitely worth the effort." Hearing that we all smiled. We might not have fully converted this heli-skiing freeskier to a backcountry freak, but he had tasted the good lovin' of earning your turns. No doubt Daron would be back chasing a sexy line in the wilderness sometime soon.