[pct-l] Snow Course #1 After-Action Report, Day-1

[ned at pacificcrestcustombuilders.com]

Snow Course #1, March 13, 14, 15, 2009


The day started clear and crisp on Echo Pass, elevation 7377 feet. It was 10 o'clock in the morning and four intrepid long-distance hikers were scheduled to begin their training in snow-travel and safety by attending a three-day "Snow Course" taught and guided by Ned Tibbits of Pacific Crest Custom Builders, Inc. of South Lake Tahoe, Ca.. The Course is designed to teach thru hikers about over-snow navigation, avalanche awareness, crossing frozen creeks and lakes, ice axe use and self-arrest practice, climbing and descending on ice, crusty snow, and what we call " sierra cement," hidden hazards under the surface, winter weather conditions worth watching, flora and fauna, and more.

This particular Course began with seven students signing up weeks ago. During the final days before the weekend, three dropped out for various reasons. I was expecting four this morning as I pulled into the Snow Park Parking Lot on Echo Pass. Within fifteen minutes, Tim A., an 18-year veteran pilot for American Eagle followed by Dawn H. and her little dog, "Ruby," arrived. Little did I know but my third student, Daniel A., actually had spent the night in the Lot, in the trees down by the distant edge. He appeared around the corner of a 12-foot pile of snow with a huge, infectious smile, hearty personality, and ready to go. My fourth student was a no-show. My dog, a 7-year-old Samoyed named Snowball, rounded out the group, and after much re-packing and dog-play in the parking lot, we walked the 100 yards over to the 6-foot snow bank on the north side of Johnson Pass Road where our trail began.

Technically, "our trail" was actually an asphalt road that led about a mile through lodgepole pines, past numerous little cabins, up to Echo Lake and boat docks, all thoroughly buried under 6 to 10 feet of snow. The way was very obvious, having been heavily traveled by skiers, snow-shoers, and day-use hikers the day before. The dogs had no idea what was ahead. They seized every opportunity to play they could. Snowball was running circles around me as I on skies pulled my 7-foot Kifaru sled full of supplies. He should know better. He has been here many times before. We still had six miles to go when we reached the sharp descent to the lake and a break for lunch.

We were sitting on our packs at the end of the piers enjoying various luncheon delights like French bread and cheese, crackers and oysters, gorp, oranges, and Tang, when from over by the dam came a very pleasant man by the name of Sam McGee. He introduced himself as a Pacific Crest Trail Worker with the desire to learn of and explore the winter backcountry. Although he didn't have all day, he was happy to hear that he could join us as we skied and snow-shoed right down the middle of Lower and Upper Echo Lakes the 3.5 miles to where the old Boy Scout Camp, Camp Harvey West, used to be. It was removed, much to the chagrin of many, when it was found to be within the Wilderness Boundary.

While walking and skiing over the frozen Lake, I pointed out that we were actually traveling on about 5 feet of frozen material and that there was no need to worry. Later in the Spring, puddles and cracks form on the mass, but pose no threat, yet, to travel. When the sides of the Lake melt out, we stop walking on water and have to take the shoreline route around. Looking up to the peaks on either side of us, we see that the local backcountry Telemarkers have scored good tracks after the last storm. Multiple descending wiggly lines in the snow from peaks through trees to the Lake greeted our eyes as we realized that they sure must have had fun making them. We followed a "path" on the ice formed from past compacted snow-shoe tracks and elevated by the wind's erosion to its sides making for a narrow, hard causeway where every stray step off its edge resulted in a stumbling plunge into a foot of powder. It was pretty much a no-nonsense straight route and after about 45 minutes of trudging we found ourselves at the other end of the lakes. It was about two o'clock and the sun was quite hot. We were happy to be out. We hadn't started the climb yet.

Although it was only a 500 foot elevation gain to our Base Camp at Tamarack Lake, I knew it was going to be a tough climb in the soft snows of the last storm. There were three routes we could take to get there, South, Creek, and the Northern, climbing traverse. I had taken the first two before. South was long and difficult, crossing many little creeks and wandering through numerous groves of pines. Creek was shorter and more direct, but dangerous with many precipitous crossings of the narrow but deep creek on oft-rotten snow bridges. The Traverse followed the buried trail, was moderate in length, and "gently" climbed the flanks of Echo Peak and Keith's Dome through a couple bowls of trees to Tamarack. Looked easy from the approach, so we took it.

Numerous old tracks laced their way up and down the slopes as we ascended through the trees keeping the creek on our downhill-left and Echo Peak on our uphill-right. Tim, Dawn, and Daniel being snow-shoers, were better able to directly climb through the trees where I, with the heavy sled, had to find easier, longer pitches to the same points, so we separated, allowing them to apply what they had heard thus far regarding route-finding. Snowball got tired of the powder and followed me in my ski tracks behind the sled. No idiot, there!  As we climbed up the drainage to the north, views gradually appeared of the eastern flanks of Ralston Peak to our left across the creek. The snow was soft in the afternoon sun. We were glad for our snowshoes and skis. Moving slowly so as not to sweat too badly and taking many breaks to catch my breath, I finally made it to Tamarack's Base Camp overlooking all of the Echo Lake basin to the south. It was about 4:30pm. 

I dropped the sled and went three or four hundred yards over to the Lake to meet Tim, Dawn, and Daniel relaxing beside the lake in the sun (keep in mind the lake is buried in snow and looks like a meadow). They were in great spirits, enjoying a bite to eat, and waiting for me. As evening was soon upon us, there were many things that needed done and little time to do them. We searched for open water at the lake's inflow and found poor access. We headed back to the Base Camp to set up our tents, get water from the outflow, and cook dinner. By the time I finished setting up the large meeting tent and my own, it was about 6:00pm and the sun had gone down behind the Crystal Range to the west and it was getting cold fast. Tim was sitting in his tent doorway not far from my tents addressing his stove and pot before him in the snow. He said that he wished he'd brought his plywood platform for his stove as it wanted to fall over. Dawn was nestled in her tent about fifty yards away in a small, sheltering circle of stunted lodgepole pines. I heard her talking to her dog, Ruby, something about human vs. dog food. Ruby has a great desire for human food. Daniel had chosen a tent location fifty yards in nearly the opposite direction, making our little outpost shaped like a triangle. His little blue-grey tent wasn't making any noise. He was in for the night.

I went the two hundred yards over to the outflow to fill my two-and-a-half gallon water bag and retired, myself to my tent. I lit and hung my little candle-lantern, put the water by the door, and in a counter-clockwise motion around the round tent, placed the ditty bag, medical bag, stove and pots, two canteens, three food bags, sanitation bag, clothing bag, sleeping bag and pad, and wet gloves, liners, and external shells either by the back door or hung from the ceiling "shelves" to dry. After a massive candle-lit stew dinner via Jetboil, a round of Advil for the aching muscles, and a quart of electrolyte drink, I retired happily for the night at 8:00pm. Outside, cirrus clouds were blowing past the stars and the wind was picking up. Snowball didn't want to come in. He was curled up near the sled in a tight ball which was his custom with his tail over his nose, ears pricked for any noise of alarm.