Over the past few weeks I’ve been doing a fair amount of uphill skiing at Monarch.  I really enjoy the effort involved, getting the heart rate up in the cold mountain air.  And it’s fun seeing the ski resort from a different perspective and at a slower pace.  

To prepare for skiing in the backcountry, Ms. Seeking and I have started our avalanche training through the knowledgeable folks at RMOC. And we’ve purchased the requisite emergency gear:  shovel, probe and beacon.

For our first taste of backcountry skiing, we decide to head up to Fooses Creek to dial in our equipment and test our beacons.  Fooses is a well-traveled local trail with low avalanche danger, sort of a “backcounty light” if you will.  A perfect place to get back into the woods in winter at a relatively low risk.  Last winter I rode my fat bike up Fooses and posted up a few pics here.  I was excited to try out the trail on skis.

We headed up there this past Saturday for a quick five-mile out and back.  It was a classic Colorado bluebird day with temps in the teens.  We chatted with some fellow skiers at the trailhead then headed up for our day.

Fooses Creek reservoir mostly frozen solid.

Heading up the trail.

The first thing I noticed is how much easier it is to climb in the snow on skis versus on a fat bike.  On rolling terrain I probably descend faster on a bike.  On a trail of loosely packed snow, skis float over the surface better and make for much easier and faster climbing.

Left to the Colorado Trail.

I enjoyed our outing so much that the next day I decided to head back up on my own for a longer trip back into the woods.  Based on what we had observed the prior day I knew the snowpack was stable. But being alone, I was watching intently for any signs of avalanche danger.  As it turns out, I should have been more focused on the trees.

Day two. Approaching the first bridge, slightly above where we turned around the previous day.

Working my way higher. The trail becoming noticeably less tracked.

Frozen beaver pond.

Second bridge.

I had skinned up almost five miles and stopped in a sunny meadow to assess how much further I wanted to go.  I was feeling good but two hours had elapsed and the trail in front of me was showing signs of considerably more up and down terrain.  Downhills going out are uphills coming back and are the quickest way to ruin a fun ski.  I decided the meadow was a good spot to transition to skiing and proceeded to turn around.

The ski back was on a gentle downhill through thick forest.  While I mostly stuck to the trail I had climbed, there were ample opportunities to choose alternate lines through the deep powder on either side of the trail.  Alone in the woods, floating silently through the trees in deep powder is endorphin producing, intoxicating fun. 

Until it wasn’t.  

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve dialed back considerably the risk I’m willing to take in the outdoors.  Remember the mantra:  victory is being able to do it again tomorrow.  But sometimes, just sometimes, usually when my lovely wife isn’t there to rein me in, I let the enthusiasm of the moment run and that’s when things go bad.

Shortly before returning to the first bridge pictured above, the trail steepens and I found myself going faster than I wanted in the tight trees.  I cut right off the trail into a small open area with the intent of letting the deep snow slow my descent.  As I arced my turn left back to the trail, I spotted a downed pine tree partially buried in the snow directly in my path.  I cut the skis hard left to avoid it and I came to a stop with my right boot pressed up against the fallen tree.  

Well, my feet came to a stop.  There was some Isaac Newton conservation of momentum stuff going on with my upper body, which continued over the tree.  With my feet trapped in the deep snow, wedged against the tree I fell sideways, not a direction knees are designed to bend.  I heard godawful popping sounds and felt sharp pain coming from right knee as I dropped into the deep snow.  Fuck!

I clearly had a problem.  I was by myself in the backcountry and although I was on a well-travelled trail I was above where most casual day users tend to venture.  When I finally managed to untangle myself and get my teakettle back over my ass, I was relieved to find that although my knee hurt, it still generally functioned as a knee.  I figured I should be able to ski out on my own. I didn’t really have a choice.  And after three more cautiously skied miles I was back at the car.

Back home, icing down my now swollen knee.

So that’s it for my first season of backcountry skiing.  That’s it for anything other than binging Netflix and drinking beer for a while.  The doctor says torn MCL most certainly, torn meniscus possibly.  I’m currently awaiting an appointment for an MRI to know for sure.  

To say I’m annoyed with myself would be a huge understatement.  In a split second I went from complete elation to crushing disappointment.  The backcountry, even backcountry lite, is a cruel teacher and apparently there are more lessons than I realized.