Do you ever get a thought or idea in your head that just won’t go away? One of those brain worms that burrows in to your subconscious and persists over months, popping into your head at the weirdest times? Over the past couple of years, for me it has been the thought of skiing the Angel of Shavano.
The Angel of Shavano is the snow feature in the couloir between Mt. Shavano and its sub-peak to the south, Esprit Point. In the spring and early summer, as the winter snow melts, the remaining snow gullies look vaguely like an angel with outstretched wings. Personally, the odd shaped “head” makes it look more like an alien or a praying mantis to me. But I suppose “the Praying Mantis of Shavano” doesn’t have the same ring.
Growing up in the Arkansas River valley, I’ve known about the Angel of Shavano since I was a kid. In the back seat of my dad’s Scout, it was how we knew we were in Salida. “Look, there’s the Angel!” But until we decided to move back to Colorado and I started learning about the 14ers and backcountry skiing I had no idea people actually skied it. And once that thought got into my head, man, it stuck.
Three years ago, when we first got here, I didn’t have the knowledge or the equipment to ski the Angel. Last year I got the equipment and was working on the knowledge when I had my little oopsie, prematurely ending my season. This year everything that needed aligning aligned and I was finally ready to give it a go.
Skiing the Angel is largely a matter of timing. Because of the steepness of the terrain in and around the Angel couloir, it’s too dangerous to ski mid-winter. Deep powder on a 30+ degree slope is an avalanche waiting to happen. But by the end of April or early May, once a full winter’s layer cake of snow has had a chance to bake in the sun for a few months and consolidate into a sheet cake of skiing nirvana, it’s prime time to ski the Angel.
The key is carefully watching the weather conditions. You want a clear, cold night followed by a sunny, warm day. A cold night freezes the wet spring snow making it firm and easier to climb. A sunny day softens it for the ski down. I’d been watching the weather for weeks starting in April and finally last week the forecast looked ideal.
The other element is an early morning start. Called an “alpine start”, which is French for butt early. Zero dark thirty as they say. Not because it’s a long drive to get there. I mean, we see it out of our living room window every day. But to optimize the snow conditions described above.
The Shavano/Tabeguache trailhead as seen in my headlamp at a very alpine starty 4:30 a.m.
The trail to get to the Angel begins as the same trail used to summit Shavano. There’s a left turn about a mile up that takes you into the couloir rather than up the ridge to the summit.
The main difference is all the crap you have to carry. Because the objective is to ski, you have to bring your skis and boots, obviously. But because you’re starting on a dirt trail, they’re on your backpack not on your feet. Your pack is full of extra layers for warmth, food and avalanche gear. A shockingly heavy proposition for someone generally used to traveling light. There’s no room in the pack for ski poles so you carry them, which actually comes in handy to keep you from tipping over from all the weight on your back.
The trailhead at 9,700 feet and the first part of the hike on the Colorado Trail were clear of snow. The Shavano trail was its normal rocky, miserable self up to about 10,400 feet where I began to encounter intermittent snow.
At 10,700 feet the snow became continuous and there were signs of postholing by previous climbers. I switched from carrying my skis and boots to wearing them.
Ah, much better. My skis carrying me.
Sunrise in the forest.
Entering the Angel couloir, I started to break out of the trees.
Looking back at Salida from treeline.
In the couloir looking straight up the Angel.
Snow shadow selfie.
So far, my timing had been excellent. The snow was firm and supportive, very easy to skin up. It was a cloudless morning and I could feel the warm sun on my back. The Angel faces east so I knew in a few hours it would be softening up nicely.
When I got to the base of the Angel I pulled out my clinometer and got a measurement of 30 degrees for the main body of the Angel. That’s reasonably steep. Not pucker steep, but too steep to skin straight up. Instead, the technique is to make your way up by cutting a zig zag path back and forth up the face. This works great in powder but at 7:30 a.m. this surface was more ice than snow. I couldn’t get purchase riding on just the edges of my skis and I ended up sliding backward for every step forward.
Time to break out the heavy artillery. My first set of crampons, bought specifically for this trip. The skis went back on my pack. The rest of the climb was on foot, kicking steps into the ice with these bad boys.
The steepest part of the Angel is the body. Once above that the slope relents to a more mellow 27-29 degrees. From observing it from our house for the past several days, I could see there was continuous snow above the Angel all the way up to the Mt. Shavano / Esprit Point saddle. That was my objective.
The strange part is, due to its sheer size and all the adjacent snow fields it’s remarkably difficult to tell exactly where you are in the Angel as you’re climbing. Looking at pictures after the fact, I think my route took me through — what are the proper pronouns for angels? — her left armpit, across her neck and up her right arm to reach the saddle.
Approaching the top of the saddle.
Topping out on the saddle with Shavano’s summit to the north…
Esprit Point to the south…
And Salida far below.
It was just after 9:00 a.m. Still a little early to start skiing, so I figured I’d begin a leisurely transition from climb mode to ski mode while enjoying a tasty snack. I sat down on a rock to eat and take in the view. It was breezy but not annoyingly so and the bright sunshine made it comfortably warm.
I sat there approximately 15 minutes, when another skier, one of a group of three I had seen climbing behind me, broke the top of the ridge. Young guy. He said hello and sat down to wait for his friends who were coming up behind him. While we were waiting, we struck up a conversation. They were from Colorado Springs and had driven up the previous evening to do a climb/ski of Shavano.
The other two in his party arrived about 10 minutes later and the three of them discussed whether they were going to continue to the summit of Shavano or ski back down. They decided to continue to the top and asked me if I’d like to join them. I told them I had already summited Shavano twice and didn’t feel the need to do it again. Since the summit was too rocky for skiing, to lighten their loads they left their skis, helmets and packs on the saddle. I wished them luck and prepared for my descent.
It’s hard to describe the feeling of smallness you get standing on skis getting ready to drop into a huge, open face like the Angel couloir. A grain of sand on a beach? A rowboat on the ocean? It’s an awe-inducing diminutiveness I’ve only felt a few other times in my life. I knew what to do but wow, I’d never done it in a setting or at an altitude like this.
The saddle where I was standing is at approximately 13,500 feet. It’s a roughly 2,000 ft. vertical drop from the saddle back to treeline. Two thousand feet of wide-open, choose your own adventure skiing, with civilization miles below.
I dropped in shortly after 10:00 a.m. The top of the snowfield just below the ridgeline was windblown but soft from two inches of fresh snow that had fallen the previous day. I had to ski carefully because there were numerous rocks sticking through the thin layer of snow.
Approaching the bottom of the upper snowfield.
Looking back at my tracks off the top.
Once onto the Angel’s right arm the snow began to soften noticeably, transitioning into what’s known as corn snow. Corn snow is large-grained snow that develops from the freeze/thaw cycle of spring. It’s smooth and consistent to ski and sounds like sand when you’re sliding over it. Devine.
In the body of the Angel the increased steepness of the slope and the perfect corn made for some amazingly fun turns.
Bottom of the Angel, approaching treeline.
Once in the trees I was able to ski a few hundred more vertical feet before things got too tight to safely negotiate. It wasn’t yet 11:00 a.m. but in the sun the snow was already turning to slush. Trying to walk out would be a nightmare of postholing, so for flotation I put the skins back on my skis and walked, scooted, and slid my way back through the trees.
Back on dry trail, I transitioned one last time to hiking boots, put my skis and ski boots back on my pack and proceeded to schlep the whole thing back down the hill. At least downhill is easier than uphill. Not that it mattered much, as I was so high on adrenaline after the ski. I was back at the car at noon, day done, thinking about what an incredible experience I had just had.
And you know what? I finally satisfied that long-nagging brain worm. But there are lots of other mountains to ski in Colorado so now I have a feeling the cycle is about to repeat itself.