Introduction | Part 1: Yosemite | Part 2: Yellowstone | Part 3: Olympic | Part 4: Glacier | Part 5: Grand Teton
When I was 6 years old, I went to Yosemite National Park Valley School, tucked below Yosemite Falls. Across the valley from my classroom window, I could see Clouds Rest, a mile-wide wall of granite just shy of 10,000 feet and the highest point visible from the valley floor. In the winter, the wall’s 5,000 vertical feet of granite slabs are covered in snow, and it comes alive with huge avalanches that crash down the face and up the other side of Tenaya Canyon.
On a crisp morning 20 years later, I’m going to find out if skiing Clouds Rest is possible. My friend Jon Blair and I leave Curry Village with packs that seem too heavy for skiing. We will use the same route to the summit as hikers do in the summer, following Mist Trail past Vernal and Nevada falls, through Little Yosemite Valley and finally up the steep push to the summit. We will gain 5,500 feet of elevation in just over eight miles. The sound of ice falling off the granite walls makes my heart beat fast and puts our nerves on edge, but we have no thoughts of turning back.
Yosemite first received protection in 1864 and became a national park in 1890. The area’s 1,200 square miles in the Sierra Nevada are known for towering waterfalls, granite walls, and sequoias. It was Yosemite that inspired John Muir, who pushed for its designation as a national park, to write the famous line, in a letter to his sister, Sarah, “The mountains are calling and I must go.” Now, more than 4 million people visit the park every year. Very few ski there.
As a child, I learned to ski at the local hill, Badger Pass (it was renamed Yosemite Ski & Snowboard Area in March 2016), which has five chairlifts and is one of three ski areas located within a national park (the other two are Hurricane Ridge in Olympic and Boston Mills/Brandywine in Cuyahoga). When I was 16, I skied a chute with Tim Messick, a skiing pioneer here, located directly across Yosemite Valley from El Capitan. It was a first descent. That day changed me forever. Tim told me only five chutes had been skied in the valley. Ever since, I noticed how many lines were skiable. And I wanted to ski them all.
When I graduated high school, I moved to Yosemite’s climber central, Camp 4. I climbed in the summer, and in the winter I skied descents into Yosemite Valley using my climbing skills to connect snow down the massive rock walls. Even after all this time, a few close friends and I were still the only ones skiing these lines. Still, after 20 years and 20-plus first descents, I dreamed of being the first to ski down Clouds Rest.
Along the Mist Trail at Vernal Fall, we walk with crampons, our toes digging into the blue ice. We gain 1,000 feet of elevation in our first three-quarters of a mile as we get blasted by the mist from the waterfall. We are wet to the skin when we finally arrive on top of Nevada Falls. That’s where we put on our skins and start the push for eight more hours through trees and steep, open terrain until we reach the summit, at 9,931 feet. By this time, we have been on the trail for a total of 14 hours. We are exhausted.
We look over the edge toward Yosemite Valley and down on a snow-covered Half Dome. The snow turns red from the sunset, and it feels like we are the only people left on the planet. I can picture myself as a young kid looking up and dreaming. That wonder hasn’t left me.
We dig out a platform for the tent and start to prepare our gear for tomorrow’s descent. As the sky darkens, temperatures drop below zero. We have light sleeping bags to keep our pack weight down, so we take turns making tea to stop shivering.
We wake up scared but excited. It’s a clear day with a light wind and temperatures below zero. I think about all my friends who have loved the Yosemite mountains and are no longer with us, having followed their passions to the end. I know they would want me to pursue this dream.
We follow the ridge east 100 feet from the summit before turning north, the aspect of our descent. We start skiing down the fall line between rotten snow and granite, and we reach the top of the first crux, a 400-foot cliff. We slam in two Lost Arrow pitons. I rappel down first, but the rope is short of the next snow section by 100 feet. I put one stubby ice screw in a vertical wall of blue ice to build a new anchor. Blair rappels next. He is not happy. Over 6 feet tall, he weighs more than 200 pounds. I look at him, smile, and say, “See you soon.” Then I lower myself down the next pitch.
Five minutes later, we are both safely back on snow. We shoulder our packs and continue to pick our way down through cliffs and no-fall zones. Another 1,000 feet of skiing, rappelling, and down-climbing and we arrive at Snow Creek. We are tired, but not yet finished. We cross Tenaya Creek waist-deep in our ski boots because we are too exhausted to take them off.
We pick our way along the creekbed and through the manzanita bushes, crossing the creek a few more times. Just before dark, we end our journey in Curry Village, full of joy.
EDITOR’S NOTE: Be sure to check out the film Monumental: Skiing Our National Parks, premiering October 20 in Denver, CO, followed by a nationwide tour. The film will be available to purchase online, as well. Additionally, POWDER produced a 150-page coffee-table hardcover book of the Monumental project. Go here for film, tour, and ticket information.
Read the Introduction and Parts 2–5 of Monumental: Skiing Our National Parks:
