Yesterday I completed a two day solo tour of Garnet Canyon in the Cathedral Group of Grand Teton National Park. I climbed nearly 5,000 vertical feet, skinning most of the way, and when it became impossible to skin, I boot-packed the remaining 2,000' or so up a steep couloir named West Hourglass. I left the parking area at around 9:00 in the morning, topped out at about 11,000' at 6:00 p.m., and rode the long, narrow (and dark) couloir in under 5 minutes. I bivouacked overnight in a snow pit under a large boulder at the base of another couloir I planned to hike in the morning. I barely had enough insulation as my bag was rated for 20 degrees and the mercury dropped to around eight that night. Luckily I brought a bivy sack to squirm into, and the snow pit encasing my tent added another measure of warmth. I arose at dawn, brushing away the snow that had accumulated in my tent, stepped out into the sun and attempted to insert my already numb feet into solidly frozen boots. As I struggled, an obviously fit man in tights skinned past me, completely oblivious to my plight. He was lightly geared, but with his track angling towards the high saddle connecting the Grand and the Middle Teton, and two ice axes strapped to his pack, he looked like he was getting into some heavy shit. After breaking camp, and lacking sufficient energy for anything more challenging, I reluctantly pulled myself and my unwieldy pack up the aforementioned couloir, topping out before noon. I was rewarded with a splendid view of the Grand Teton, Nez Perce, Shadow Peak, and the Shadow Peak cirque, with the east-facing Sliver couloir just out of view from my position. Before strapping in to drop the chute I had just booted up, I stopped to snap a few pictures of the Grand. As I did this, I noticed a single track coming off the summit and down to the top of the Stettner couloir. Had my friend in tights summited the Grand Teton in the time it took me to break camp, have breakfast, and hike this relatively minor couloir, descending the Stettner with the help of his ice axes? I will never know, but I would bet a fair sum that it was his track I had scoped, as the conditions were ideal for a single day ascent/descent of the Grand, and there are athletes in this valley that are more than capable of such an achievement.
I rode a brilliant line close to my original skin track, returning to my car around 1:00 p.m., via the frozen Bradley lake and over the terminal moraine bordering it, utterly exhausted. To think that another man could climb 7,000' of technical rock, ice, and snow, and descend one of the most dangerous lines in North America in the span of half a day was well, almost unthinkable! Had he even beat me to the parking area? In any event, all I could think about at the moment was a Quarter Pounder with cheese, large fries, and a Coke. Without an ounce of guilt, I drove straight for McDonald's.
It was a great tour and a big accomplishment for me, but it was tempered by some tragic news I was told by my friend on the way home: Two highly skilled and accomplished local skiers had perished in an avalanche two canyons over from me the previous afternoon, on a southeast, sunlit couloir, nearly 3,000' in length. The entire couloir slid, over rocks and cliff bands, burying the skiers under just a few feet of debris, but killing them instantly, as the size and extent of the slide path made it unsurvivable. I rationalize the event somehow by acknowledging my decision to stay in shaded, north-facing slopes, foregoing my original plan to ski the Sliver, which happens to be the same aspect as the one which slid. Of course, as they say hindsight is 20-20; Steve Romeo and Chris Onufer were two of the world's most experienced backcountry skiers, skiing in relatively moderate conditions. Despite the best precautions, you never really know what the mountains might have in store for you.
It was a great tour and a big accomplishment for me, but it was tempered by some tragic news I was told by my friend on the way home: Two highly skilled and accomplished local skiers had perished in an avalanche two canyons over from me the previous afternoon, on a southeast, sunlit couloir, nearly 3,000' in length. The entire couloir slid, over rocks and cliff bands, burying the skiers under just a few feet of debris, but killing them instantly, as the size and extent of the slide path made it unsurvivable. I rationalize the event somehow by acknowledging my decision to stay in shaded, north-facing slopes, foregoing my original plan to ski the Sliver, which happens to be the same aspect as the one which slid. Of course, as they say hindsight is 20-20; Steve Romeo and Chris Onufer were two of the world's most experienced backcountry skiers, skiing in relatively moderate conditions. Despite the best precautions, you never really know what the mountains might have in store for you.
Some photos (read captions first, then click any photo for slideshow):
My route, minus the leftward summit section (photographer unknown)
Untracked Pow!
Skin track, 'Platforms'
Platforms
Same
2nd Couloir
2nd Couloir
Skin track through the 'Meadows'
Skin track through the 'Meadows'
Snowboarder descending West Hourglass
Same
East Hourglass Couloir
East Hourglass Couloir
West Hourglass, at 50+ degrees
East Hourglass Couloir
East Hourglass
Upper Garnett Canyon
Two skiers ascending upper Garnet Canyon
Same, close up
Same
Same
West Hourglass, looking up towards choke
West Hourglass
West Hourglass
West Hourglass
The Grand
Close up of the Grand, Teepee Pillar in foreground
West Hourglass, two-thirds up
Grand Teton
West Hourglass from the top (6:00 p.m.)
Campsite
Campsite
Middle Teton
Middle Teton
Self-portrait
Middle Teton
Same
Shadow Peak Cirque
My line just above my campsite, bootpack visible below
Same
The Other Half of the Story (from my facebook page):
I only knew Steve from occasional encounters at his gear shop in Jackson, when he was actually there and not skinning up a mountain somewhere. I felt I knew him more intimately, however, from reading the blogs on his website TetonAT.com, as I'm sure most of us who followed it did. His colorful descriptions and unqualified documentation of local ski descents, his attention to sometimes very esoteric details regarding equipment or travel, his enthusiasm for big, steep lines and the mountains in general (especially the Tetons), indeed his life, served as inspiration to me and countless others. It's hard to believe that such an iconic and intrepid figure, with all his skill and experience, is actually gone from this world. If any single piece of news could discourage one in avoiding the backcountry altogether, this would surely qualify. Hell, It was from Steve's own website that we as a community got most of our information about avalanches and avalanche fatalities. I didn't know Chris at all, but I'm sure as Steve's regular skiing partner, he had similar and admirable traits. In any case, even to those unfamiliar to them, they are both worth at least a few minutes to read about, remember, and ponder. Courtesy of Andrew McLean:
Well shit. Sad news today from Jackson Hole today that Steve Romeo and Chris Onufer were buried and died in an avalanche somewhere in the Grand Teton National Park. I didn't know Chris, but had spent quite a bit of time with Steve and my thoughts go out to both their families and friends. ...
By: Andrew McLean
