A Single Run Report At Copper Mountain (3/26/05) And The Lesson Learned
On Saturday 3/26/05, I made my first trip to Copper Mountain. It had snowed a few inches for several days and overnight six inches fell so I was very excited to finally get some real powder turns in for the first time this season. I made two nice runs in the “spectacular bowls of Copper” on Lillie G and Bradley’s Plunge before deciding to wait in the thirty minute line for the snow cat ride up to Copper Bowl and all of the fresh lines that awaited. I had heard from several people that the hike up Tucker Mountain was not too bad and there were several nice areas that could be dropped into along the way. This was to be one of the biggest hikes I’ve ever made and also the highest at over 12,000 feet so I wanted to see if my near sea level lungs and body were up to the challenge. What followed was an experience and a lesson in big mountain skiing that I will not soon forget.
I made the hike up the first ridge in under 20 minutes and had to stop in 3 sections to catch my breath. I was pretty tired and not really sure if I wanted to hike another twenty minutes up the next ridge to access the chutes that I knew would hold deep snow. So, I straight lined the ridge line from the peak of Tucker Mountain down to the skiers’ right side of The Nacho and the left side of West Taco. There were several sweet tracks going down this area and I decided to follow a boarder that went before me. I chose to ski next to a set of tracks to my left and found some really soft and light boot deep snow. I stopped about half way down when the boarder traversed off to the right. Curiously, I noticed a bare patch of grass in the tracks to the left of me but, unfazed, decided to follow those tracks and ski a little further down before making the traverse to the right. About six turns later, I went over a very small ridge and bottomed out on bare ground. A second later, my right Volant Chubb hit a large rock and came off when I was transitioning into a left turn. I went down and ejected from my left ski and immediately stood up to see if I could spot the first ski to come off. I knew I was in trouble when I sank waist deep in wind blown snow. I put my left ski back on and struggled the 25 feet or so up to the area where I thought my right ski came to rest. It was very rocky and the snow was only a few inches deep in several areas. Almost every time I made a pass with my pole I ended up hitting rock. Since the snow depth was so varied and the area so large, I decided against using the tail of my ski as a search tool. Two boarders and a skier came down near me and despite my requests none stopped to lend a hand even though two of them also went down after hitting rocks. I chalked it up to “there are no friends on powder days.” I searched for a good twenty to thirty minutes before giving up and heading the rest of the way down on one ski. I skied past the cheering snow cat line that caught the whole episode of my ordeal and arrived completely exhausted to the cheers and jeers of the large crowd waiting for the Mountain Chief lift. A sympathetic single snowboarder allowed me to cut the line and ride with him away from my troubles.
I reported the lost ski at the Ski Patrol shack on top of Union Peak. The Patrollers were understanding and put the word out over the radio to be on the lookout for my Chubb. They allowed me to take as much time and drink as much of their water as I needed. I then headed down Timber Ridge towards the Sierra Lift on my remaining ski only to be stopped by a hiking Patroller along the way who offered to call in a snowmobile. I wanted to ski the whole way down to the base on one ski as self imposed punishment but was so tired I gave in and took him up on the offer. The sled driver was very cool and even offered me a pair of his skis to use if needed for the rest of the day as he dropped me off for the download on the American Flyer lift. This was the first and last time I will ever download on any lift unless I’m hurt. The stares from the upcoming riders were more embarrassing than losing the ski. Skiing down 2,000 vertical feet on one ski, even exhausted, would have been way cooler and way more fun. The Aussie lifty at the bottom told me he lost a ski in the bowls a couple of weeks before and that helped ease the pain a little. Later, I learned that I was one of “several” to lose a ski that day on Tucker Mountain. The customer service folks refused to tell me how many people each year lose a ski back there so I assume it’s a fair amount.
In true idiot fashion, I went back the next morning with my K2 Axis X and powder chords to give it one more futile search. I timed this hike at 13 minutes so that was some small form of self satisfying accomplishment. A couple more inches of snow had fallen overnight and the wind covered many of the previous tracks and freshened things up a bit. Still, I took the turns down very slowly and traversed a good bit of the way to avoid nailing any more rocks. I’m sure those waiting for the snow cats far below thought I was a total moron. Oh well, I searched for another thirty minutes in the general area before deciding to get in a few nice powder turns at the bottom quarter of the mountain and try to forget about my beloved Chubb.
Ok, so what did I learn? Most importantly that I was an idiot on several levels and made a number of mistakes:
1. I was skiing by myself in difficult off-piste terrain that I was not familiar
2. I failed to listen to several people including an instructor that warned of rocks
3. I got suckered into following tracks that looked like a sweet line
4. I failed to read my line and take better notice of the terrain and snow conditions
5. I had powder chords and did not use them, because:
a. It had only snowed 6 inches the previous night and I believed they were not necessary
b. Nobody else was using them (the cool factor)
c. Hiking with powder chords is inconvenient
6. I was greedy in my search for powder and fresh lines
7. Downloading on any lift is worse than losing a ski
8. Despite the actions of a few, or lack of, there were many more who were willing to help
So, flame away Maggots but I ask for some understanding and a little help. Anyone that may be at Copper Mountain and about 3/4 of the way down in The Nacho and West Taco area during the rest of the season or over the Summer, please be on the look out. If you should see a Volant Chubb with an Alta sticker on the tip and a Powder Maggot Mini Summit sticker on the tail poking its way out of the snow, please pick it up for me. There is a case of Colorado pale ale waiting for the finder’s troubles. Just beware of the rocks.
Peace,
Cornbread
The approximate area where the ski is buried. May Ullr rest its sole or resurrect it.
http://www.biglines.com/photos/blpic37405.jpg
My few powder tracks of the season right before the calamity. Sad I know. Sorry for the poor quality, B&W, and wasted bandwidth.
http://www.biglines.com/photos/blpic37406.jpg
The solitary ride to the bottom. Oh the humility.
http://www.biglines.com/photos/blpic37407.jpg
Once again, the quest for the lost ski continues the next morning. Standing on top of Tucker Mountain... a true glutton for punishment.
http://www.biglines.com/photos/blpic37408.jpg
