Gulf of Slides

Saturday, May 14, 2011

There's not much debating the point that Mt. Washington is the biggest, baddest mountain in the Northeast, with a reputation for extreme conditions at all times of the year.  In the winter, prevailing wind blows snow into the leeward features of this massif, creating some of the most unique winter recreation opportunities in the Northeast.  This playground has probably claimed so many lives over the years due its relatively easy access.  There aren't too many places in the country where you can park a car, hike in a couple of miles, and get in way over your head.

Tuckerman Ravine is a classic and a rite of spring with its glacially carved bowl and signature gullies and it attracts hordes of visitors, including snow riders of all abilities and onlookers too.  Sensing the potential for crowds up at Tux and intrigued by the opportunities at nearby Gulf of Slides, we opted to check out this lesser-known, lesser-traveled area which holds its snow almost as long and promises steep, sustained skiing.

Did I previously mention that access is easy?  Maybe it's time to recant.  Up until mid-April the Northeast was blanketed in one of the deepest snowpacks in recent memory and conditions for back country skiing were excellent all over the map.  It was a time that seemed certain to last well into spring, maybe even summer, but just when it seemed like winter would keeping rolling it warmed up and started raining and by the time we arrived at Pinkham Notch on May 14, only the remnants of an incredible season remained.

We geared up at Pinkham Notch, lashing our skis to our backpacks, putting our ski boots inside our backpacks and wearing hiking boots on the approach.  We got a late start, in part because I remembered I left my skis at the hotel when we were only about ten minutes from the trailhead, requiring a turnaround.  It was a cloudy and mild day with rain predicted for late afternoon, but with the late-setting sun, we figured we had plenty of time to make the roundtrip safely.

We donned our backpacks, shouldering a substantial load and started up the Gulf of Slides trail.  Note to self:  you own umpteen backpacks-- next time bring one that has a larger capacity and a wider waist belt for hauling Volkl skis - I appreciated having alpines along when it came to the skiing but hauling the things uphill for three miles was a chore.

The trail starts off at the south end of the parking area wandering along the New River before it splits off and starts ascending.  It is about twenty feet wide and it was muddy from the recently melted snow.  Starting out in a hardwood forest the trail winds its way around the shoulder of Boott Spur high above, gaining elevation in a series of twists and turns, as it climbs up into the clouds.  Higher up the trees transitioned to the familiar spruce and fir forests of the Northeast and the climbing lessened as we came to the first traces of snow on the trail.  After crossing the New River the snow was nearly constant and we started to have some glimpses of snow on the features that run from near the top of Boott Spur.

Past the second rescue cache, donated in memory of two skiers who died in an avalanche here in 1996, we come to the final run-out of the central gully.  It's tough to describe in words, but when you see a pile of trees that are laid over from an avalanche or smell the scent of fresh timber, it's enough to make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.  It's late enough in spring now that the snow is well-consolidated and the avalanche danger is low, but it's always best to take a conservative approach.  At this time of year there is probably more danger from water flowing under the snow and undermining the surface.

Base of avalanche run-out - the trees tell the story

Gulf of Slides - Central Gully

A couple of skiers passed by us and we chatted for a minute before continuing to boot up the Central Gully a ways before stopping to put on our ski boots.  The clouds hung in, mostly obscuring the top of the gully but occasionally clearing to provide a view of the terrain ahead.  The central gully itself is perhaps up to 50 feet wide in spots and it was melted out midway up where water ran over exposed slabs and disappeared again under the snow.  To each side of the main gully, the north and south gullies forked off from main gully below the slabs, continuing up into the clouds.  The central gully rises about 1000 feet in a half mile, steepening to about 40 degrees up to the ridge line.

Standing in ski boots with our skis still lashed to our backpacks we started up the gully, more or less following the boot ladder left from the earlier skiers, but also kicking in our own steps as we went.

Ben on ascent

climbing through the mist

slow progress up the gully

self portrait in the gully

When we reached the base of the north gully we continued up this feature, making slow and steady progress.  The snow was reasonably soft and there wasn't any trouble kicking steps, but I wished I had swapped out a ski pole for my ice axe.  After carting the thing all the way up here, it wasn't doing me any good on my pack.

I wasn't looking ahead too far and before long we reached a point where the snow terminated at the end of a cluster of spruces. The snow - it ends!  We decided to cut left back to the main gully which was one of the more challenging feats of the day.  Not two paces into the crossover I slipped on a tree trunk and pitched down through the undergrowth, the momentum of my skis on my back driving me into the ground.  Too bad Ben didn't have a camera ready for that one.  I had to completely unclip my backpack and skis to dislodge myself.  We had one more crossover after this one which was slow and humbling before we emerged at the lip of the headwall above the gully.

trapped in dense spruces

Ben fights his way through the undergrowth

From this location we couldn't see snow anywhere, although we made our way toward the logical start of the central gully and we found a small cairn which led down a rough path of twenty yards to the terminus of the snow.  We paused here for a snack before gearing up.

Central Gully from the top - convex dropoff ahead

at the top of the Gully

It was a great feeling to finally take the skis off of my backpack and clip in.  Looking ahead the central gully fell away into the clouds over a dropoff.  We hadn't hiked up this way so we needed to be careful as we began our descent.  It's not the ideal way to explore new terrain but there wasn't much choice.

Ben went first, I mean hey, he's the ski instructor, right?  He's got some serious skills!  Ben carved it up on the upper slope and started angling toward skiers left.  My first turn or two were choppy, but once I got going it felt good to be carving some arcs in the mashed potatoes.  It's late season and like a melting glacier the snow isn't the pure-white canvas of mid-winter- it's old and dirty- but it still behaved like it should.

The ski descent went fast as we alternated skiing down the gully, eventually reaching the melted-out slabs.  We traversed over some ice and through a tricky crossover in the trees before picking up the lower south gully.  I pulled out my camera for some photos:

Once a ski instructor,
always a ski instructor

Ben rips it up

2/3 of the way down through the mist

On the move

This is what we came for

Yes I'll take another helping of mashed potatoes

We swapped the camera a little ways down and skied a bit further to the spot where we left our hiking boots on the way up.  Another dozen or so turns beyond that and we were back at the run out and the rescue cache.  Time for another lap?  Unfortunately not today.  Working for your turns really makes you appreciate them.  This has been an awesome run - we're both thinking about what this would be like in mid-winter.  Wow!

Mike gets into the action

Point 'em and go - snap-snap

Riding out the lower gully

Rescue cache at base of gully
in memory of 1996 avalanche victims

From the rescue cache we followed the snow as far as we could, sliding down a narrow monorail of snow where we could, avoiding rocks and trees.  We un-clipped at a few spots and walked a few yards to where a continuing seam of snow promised some more sliding.  We continued in this manner until there wasn't any more snow to follow.  I think if the ground had just been soft and grassy we probably would have continued on our skis, but it was time to take them off.  We stopped for a snack and packed it up for the hike back down to Pinkham.  It started to rain as we made our way down.

Descending the Gulf of Slides ski trail
and wishing it were snow-covered

ski trail in the mist
watch out for the clothesline...

Back at Pinkham Notch

Arriving back at the car it was almost the end of a great day, but not before some more Flatbread pizza in North Conway.  It's not to be missed when you're in the neighborhood.  For an encore we stormed up and down Mt. Chocorua on Sunday in the rain, not even stopping for a snack.  It was like old times as we set a blistering pace, chit-chatting right along through it.  Another awesome weekend!

SPOT log for the day