Backcountry skiing and mountaineering in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

The insistent jangling of the telephone awakened me far too early on a beautifully brisk, sunny January morning. Doing my best to sound as if I had been up for hours I reached for the phone and was greeted by the cheerful voice of my climbing partner Bob. Inquiring if I were interested in doing a little Nordic/Backcountry skiing, he offered the use of his extra equipment if I would meet at his place. Even though I was still half asleep I recognized an offer I couldn't refuse and immediately accepted his invitation.

That early morning experience made an instant convert of me and our planned winter mountaineering excursion to the White Mountain National Forest in Hew Hampshire quickly evolved into a backcountry ski trip. Originally planned for late January, our trip had to be rescheduled for March due to work obligations and, more importantly, the fact that the White Mountains had received far less than the normal snowfall. After months of planning and postponements we finally for New Hampshire during the second week of March.

Leaving Cleveland before dawn, we had a long and uneventful drive, arriving in North Conway just after 6:30 p.m. I had experienced a few hot flashes during the day but passed them off as a result of the hot-pepper-pizza carbo loading the night before. A nasty flu bug had been making the rounds at work but I refused to consider the possibility that I was getting sick for fear of making it a reality.

Due to the warmer than normal temperatures forecast for the week, Bob decided against renting a sub-zero sleeping bag, electing instead to use his own 20° F bag. We spent some time drooling over all the new gear at International Mountain Equipment before stopping at Eastern Mountain Sports where I rented backcountry skis and boots. I was surprised when I discovered that the gear was brand new and eagerly signed the rental papers. Having nothing better to do with our time we lingered at EMS for so long they finally began turning the lights off in hopes that we would go away. Taking the none-too-subtle hint, we had no alternative but to retire to a nearby trailhead for the night. Amidst half a dozen other like-minded parties we reclined the seats, crawled into our sleeping bags and drifted off to sleep.

The temperature had risen to almost 35° F when we awoke and our prospects of skiing in a winter wonderland were fast disappearing. Nonetheless, we were intent on skiing even if it were on rocks. At the gate on Bear Mountain Road we grabbed our day packs, hopped on our skis and started up the trail. It was a very quiet morning and we spent several hours silently gliding through the fog-shrouded woods. I was so excited to be skiing in the Whites that I didn't pay attention to technique and took several minor spills. We skied up and down the trails for most of the morning before the rising temperature caused us to do more walking than gliding. Scrounging around for better snow conditions we drove to the Lincoln Woods Visitor Center but as we crossed Kancamagus Pass the weather changed from fog to light rain. We had intended to spend three or four days in the Pemigawasset Wilderness but with the warm temperature and a forecast for more rain we decided to postpone those plans for a day or two.

Continuing our search for skiable snow we drove toward Pinkham Notch and the Presidential range. Just south of Pinkham Notch we spotted the Rocky Branch trailhead and were elated to see the trail had been groomed by snowmachines. The mostly-sunny weather conditions were much different than we had encountered a few hours earlier and the car had barely stopped moving before we were making our way up the trail toward the summit of Popple Mountain. It was a glorious afternoon for skiing and, rapidly reaching the summit, we debated continuing farther out the trail. We wanted to get out on the trails at Lincoln Center first thing in the morning so we regrettably turned our skis downhill and had a long, exhilarating run back down to the trailhead. I experimented with a telemark turn but having no clue as to what I was doing I instead performed my version of the old ABC Sports "Agony of Defeat".

Darkness had set in by the time we got back to Lincoln Woods and found a campsite at the nearby Hancock Campground. We began to pack down a tent platform but the snow was so wet that it was mostly ice and once again we elected to sleep in the car. After dinner, Bob wanted to get a little cleaned up so he stripped down and began rubbing handfuls of icy snow all over himself. Not being a masochist, I decided to stink.

I hadn't slept very well, due in part to the dank, drizzly weather and although I was feeling a little queasy I forced down some hot chocolate and a few Nutri-Grain bars. At about 6:30 a.m. we collected what little gear we had out and drove over to the Lincoln Woods parking lot. The half-melted slush and ice from the day before had become deep, frozen ruts during the night and we almost high-centered the car before finally getting into the lot. Tossing a few necessities into our day packs we eagerly started off down the trail. The early clouds had disappeared and we reveled in the dazzlingly beautiful morning as we skied. The trail was well groomed but a bit icy all the way to the Pemigewasset Wilderness Area where it gave way to ice-bound ruts that made the skiing much more challenging.

We skied on for several hours intending to cross the river and return on the other bank. Unfortunately, the map that I carried did not have sufficiently detailed contour lines and, fearing we had overshot the crossing, we elected to return the way we had come. We had covered over six miles at a pretty good clip but I was amazed to feel so uncharacteristically fatigued. I hadn't noticed that the trail had been ascending at a slight grade until we turned back. With gravity working for us we had a fun return trip and once we were back on the groomed trail we began to see a few other skiers. Blasting down a hill, I threw a scare into several women as my vain attempt to look studly turned into a battle to maintain control that quickly evolved into a desperate struggle to avoid a humiliating face plant at their feet.

Miraculously escaping with a little of my ski-stud image intact, I caught up with Bob and we raced the remaining distance back to the trailhead where we stashed our skis at the visitor center. Enjoying a cup of hot cider with the Ranger around the wood-burning stove we discovered much to my chagrin that we had turned around just short of the river crossing. I had begun to feel weak and dizzy so I pulled my chair a bit closer to the stove while Bob continued the conversation. The Ranger had many interesting stories to tell and I was particularly amused when he told us that the Loon Mountain Ski Area had recently been cited by the EPA for diverting practically all of the East Branch of the Pemigawasset River for snow making.

Our hot drinks finished, we gathered our gear and made our way to the parking lot. As we loaded the skis into the car two hard core skiers clad in skin-tight spandex approached and asked if we by chance had any "kleestah?". The look on Bob's face was priceless. His skis are waxless and being unfamiliar with the arcane art of ski-waxing, he had no idea what the fellow was asking for or if indeed he was even speaking English. The incident sparked a running joke for the rest of the week as each time one of us had a minor problem the other would suggest a little "kleestah".

We finally stopped laughing long enough to discuss plans for the remainder of the afternoon. It was getting late in the day and since we were a little tired and a lot sweaty from our twelve mile morning ski trip Bob suggested staying at the Joe Dodge lodge at Pinkham Notch. I was feeling very weak and tired and although I normally prefer camping I quickly agreed. Besides, I smelled. Bad.

Dragging our gear to the room we grabbed our towels and went straight to the community bathroom where we shaved and showered before heading out to Pizza Hut. In an effort at avoiding the flu I ate an entire large Veggie-lovers pizza while Bob filled up with salad and pasta. We felt a little conspicuous driving around town without a ski-laden roof rack but it wasn't long before we concluded that most of the fancy nylon ski bags probably contained nothing more than a couple of two by fours.

Back at Pinkham Notch we killed some time browsing the great selection of books and studying the large model of the Presidential Range. The weather forecast for the following day didn't appear to be conducive for skiing so we made a spur-of-the-moment decision to climb a peak that neither one of us had attempted before. With some outstanding advice from the AMC staff we chose Mt. Adams via the Airline Trail as our objective and retiring to our room we readied our gear and hopped into bed.

Although I had taken several aspirin and a flu pill I still felt delirious and hadn't gotten much sleep but I forced myself out of bed and rather listlessly I followed Bob to the lodge for breakfast. Despite my lack of appetite I succeeded in eating some waffles, scrambled eggs, toast and coffee but the spicy Tex-Mex flavored hash-browns were another matter altogether. When I finished my coffee we climbed into the car and drove to the Appalachia Trailhead located at the northern end of the Presidential Range.

We were on the trail just before 8 a.m. Not what could be called an alpine start but about the best I could manage under the circumstances. We covered the first several miles fairly quickly but as the trail began to steepen we encountered many long sections of extremely slick ice. After a short break to put on crampons we continued our climb but already I was beginning to lag behind. Bob was real nice about it and slowed his pace even though it jeopardized his chances of summiting Mt. Adams. Desperately seeking to increase my speed I made a quick stop to take more Vitamin K (Ketoprofin) and eat an energy bar. Pushing on up the trail we eventually reached the exposed Durand Ridge overlooking the breath-taking beauty of King Ravine. Bob and I agreed that while Tuckerman Ravine is nice, the sheer alpine grandeur and solitude of King Ravine is far superior.

Because the ridge was more rock than ice we had to remove our crampons and now that we were fully exposed to the wind we took advantage of the stop to add a few more layers of insulation. As I was eating my last energy bar I suddenly became so chilled that I was afraid I was going to have to head back to the car. I took another Ketoprofin and tried to warm myself up and after about five minutes the severe chill began to abate. Once again we set out for the summit and as we advanced up the ridge nebulous clouds began to move in. A light misty rain began to fall and our progress was further impeded by ice forming on our glasses. The rain and sleet changed to snow as we gained elevation but we were moving slower than ever due to the slippery snow and ice-covered rocks. My hopes of taking a few photos of the Presidential Range where dashed by the clouds and fog that had reduced visibility to less than one quarter mile. Although we were within 100 vertical feet of the summit we were also past our turn-around time so, reluctantly turning back, we set off for the trailhead. Going back down was much more grueling because the earlier rain had now frozen and the entire ridge was encased in a thin layer of ice.

I was extraordinarily exhausted by the time we reached treeline. My only thought was of lying down and sleeping for a while; then everything would be all right. Fortunately I was still alert enough to know that doing so would mean certain death. Taking one last look at the ravine I was overcome with such a profound feeling of melancholia that I nearly cried. Unnerved by my strange emotions I quickly followed Bob to the shelter of some trees where we put on our crampons. I ate a frozen candy bar that I had been saving for a crucial moment and, hoping that the energy boost would last long enough to get me to the trailhead, we moved on. Once below treeline we were able to travel much more quickly except for where the snow had covered the treacherous ice flows on the trail. From up on the ridge we had seen two hikers apparently hiking down ahead of us and at each section of ice we found evidence that at least one member of the party was having a rough time traversing the slick ice. We could make out one or two distinct footprints and then a long, wildly twisting sitzmark that usually ended abruptly at the base of a boulder. Imagining what the poor fellow must have been going through made us cringe as step by step, a cascade of ice splinters preceding us, we carefully made our way down the ice. When we caught up with them we were amused to see one of the hikers had an enormous rip in the seats of both his wool and Gore-Tex pants. We all shared a good laugh as we passed. Our pace had quickened as the steep grade of the trail had begun to lessen and we were within a mile of the trailhead when I bonked again. We both had developed hotspots from our boots but it was rapidly becoming dark and since we had unwisely left our headlamps behind we ignored the pain and slogged on. Amidst softly falling snow flakes we reached the car just as darkness fully enveloped the mountains.

The next morning dawned bright, clear, and sunny; a complete reversal from the day before. Unfortunately I felt worse than ever despite my experiments at medicating myself with heavy dosages of aspirin and flu medicine. Bob wanted to try skiing the Avalanche Brook trail and although I badly wanted to go with him I decided to wait and see how I felt in the afternoon. As Bob started to ski away, I spotted something in the snow that looked suspiciously like the tips of skis. Apparently someone had skied to the trailhead, stepped out of their skis and forgotten about them. The skis were rather well used but I picked them up anyway and carried them to the Pinkham Notch visitor center where I left them with the AMC staff.

After a quick trip to town for more cash I stopped to investigate the Great Glen Ski Area. I had wanted to ride the snow-cat up the Mt. Washington Auto Road and ski back down but due to the poor snow conditions they were practically shut down. With nothing else to do I went back to Pinkham Notch to rest and wait for Bob. As I walked across the parking lot I was surprised to see him waiting for me. He reported that the snow was in poor condition, making an already difficult trail an unpleasant struggle. Hoping for better conditions later in the week we went into town to check out some of the ski shops. Leaving my Koflach inner boots at IME for repair, we drove out to White Horse and Cathedral Ledges and looked over a few ski resorts. Bob made so many jokes about the "knickers crowd" around Jackson that I almost forgot how deliriously ill I was. Late in the afternoon snow started to fall and everything began to take on that magical winter-wonderland aura. After dinner at Pinkham a congenial group of telemark skiers invited us to watch "Revenge of the Telemarkers" with them and by the time the film was over I was convinced that I would be able to telemark like a pro. Right.

The snow continued to fall all night and we awoke to find everything buried under a heavy two foot deep blanket of snow. We dug the car out before eating breakfast and then set out on the Old Jackson Road. Apparently all the other skiers at Pinkham had slept in and we had the beauty of the snow-covered woods to ourselves. Despite several photo breaks we soon arrived at the Auto Road where we discovered the rising temperature was beginning to cause the snow to stick to the skis. Expecting our mostly downhill return trip to be easy, I was increasingly frustrated as the wet snow began building up under my skis. As I swooped down a short, steep section the snow grabbed a ski in a vise-like grip and down I went. Digging the cold icy snow out of my nose I momentarily feared I had been struck blind. Fortunately it was only the inch of snow that was packed behind my glasses. Struggling to my feet, I dug several shovelfuls of snow out of my pants before attempting to get back on the skis. Examining the bindings, I discovered they had become encased in a bullet-proof shell of compacted snow and ice. Using the pole tip as an ice pick I chipped away most of the ice but a few pieces remained stubbornly attached to the pins. Digging at the stragglers with my bare hands I suddenly and quite painfully folded my thumbnail backwards. My temper had been worn rather thin but I managed to maintain control of my anger and a few minutes later I was back on the skis and gliding down the trail. But not for long. Once again the snow unexpectedly snatched a ski and I found myself buried face first in the snow. Furiously ripping off my snow-caked glasses I grabbed the nearest ski and screaming in anger, hurled it thirty feet down the trail. Of course the ski immediately submarined into the deep snow. Feeling rather foolish I quickly found the ski and carefully started down the trail. By the time we arrived back at Pinkham Notch the wet snow had accumulated so thickly on the skis that I was unable to glide at all and even walking had become difficult.

Backcountry snow conditions had become so poor that we opted to spend the rest of the day at Black Mountain Ski Area in the hopes that downhill condition would be better. Although we had the added benefit of gravity the slopes were a bit slow and in some spots we actually found ourselves attempting to kick-and-glide with alpine gear in order to keep moving. I saw a black diamond run that I hadn't tried before and with naive optimism followed a small group of ten-year-olds down the hill. Suddenly they disappeared as if swallowed by a crevasse. Skidding to a stop I found myself looking down a sheer vertical cliff. At least it looked that way to me. I could see the boys way down at the bottom making one perfect turn after another. Having no dignity to begin with, I realized I had nothing to lose and boldly pushed off into the void. I was halfway down before I managed to gain anything remotely akin to control and bring myself to an ungraceful stop. Astonished to find myself still alive I decided not to tempt fate more than was necessary and skied the remaining distance to the lift well within my narrow range of control. I rejoined Bob at the lift, and we skied for several more hours until the slopes closed for the day.

I had taken handfuls of aspirin and flu pills but they had begun to wear off, so by the time we left I was once again seriously bonked, wet, cold and very ill. Knowing that we had a room at Pinkham, I had pushed myself much further than I should have, especially since we had decided to return home the following day. After turning in my rented skis at EMS we picked up my boots at IME. I was very pleased with the quick repair and exceptional service I received from Rick Wilcox and his crew at IME. They really know what customer service is all about.

Awakening the next morning with the resigned certainty that I had a very high fever, I medicated myself with the last of my pharmaceuticals. The snow covered mountains glowed as they were slowly lit by the golden sunrise and we both expressed regret at leaving such an awe-inspiring area. Traffic had already become heavy as the first wave of skiers began to arrive for the weekend. The roads were icy and extremely treacherous and just north of Lincoln we passed a car that had turned upside down. I managed to get through New Hampshire, Vermont and Massachusetts before the beneficial effects of the flu pills wore off. Feeling very ill and feverish, the rest of the drive through New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio was sheer agony. After dropping Bob off at his house I dazedly continued home. Not even bothering to unload the car, I paused long enough to take my temperature - 103.6° F - before heading straight for bed where I spent the next two days. Late Sunday evening I finally dragged all my gear out of the car but I was too tired to do more than pile it in the living room. I had hoped that by some small miracle Bob would escape the flu bug that had laid me low but, not surprising considering the amount of time he had spent in close quarters with me, two days later it got him too.

Heel Free or Die - Backcountry Skiing in the Whites - This site is for cross-country and backcountry skiing in the White Mountain National Forest and the rest of New England. Backcountry in the Whites is limited by a lack of open slopes and snow conditions that aren't always friendly and there isn't much steep or extreme terrain available, but there are many places to go that are great fun.

Appalachian Mountain Club - Nestled at the base of Mt. Washington and commanding outstanding views, Pinkham Notch Visitor Center and Lodge offer a unique entry into the White Mountain backcountry. Enjoy breakfast and dinner in the dining room with views of Wildcat Ridge. Homemade breads delicious soups, and plentiful entrees are prepared every night and served family-style. A buffet breakfast and lunch are served daily.

rec.skiing.backcountry - The Backcountry Skiing Newsgroup.

NATO - The North American Telemark Organization - The North American Telemark Organization is the world's oldest and largest Telemark and Backcountry skiing promotional and educational resource. For almost two decades, NATO has helped over thirty thousand people master Telemark skiing. Their public on-snow instructional courses, clinics, workshops, camps, and adventure tours are offered from Maine to Alaska and open to all. NATO events are fun to attend and the most complete Telemark / Backcountry skiing skills clinics offered in North America. There is information regarding events and information on ordering NATO products.

International Mountain Equipment - IME is dedicated to providing the best selection of rock-climbing, ice-climbing and expedition equipment available in the United States. In addition to the newest in technical advances and the highest-quality gear on the market today, IME has a consignment area in their North Conway shop where they sell used outdoor clothing and equipment. They also have an extensive equipment-rental department. Call in advance during busy periods to reserve tents, packs, sleeping bags, double plastic boots, ice axes, telemark and alpine-touring ski equipment, and more.